Before I Fall
by incense and peppermints
Summary: With her brother in Vietnam and her father's worsening depression, Julia Randle must cope with her troubles at home while juggling high school, her first job, and an unlikely friendship with Curly Shepard. Future set sequel to Landslide.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns, I borrow.

* * *

_Tuesday, October 7th, 1969_

It was a slow weeknight at Buck's when Curly showed me his "order to report" letter, and slow nights, weekend or not, didn't happen there often. I thought it was fitting for the occasion, especially the way he tossed it in front of me like it was no big deal.

I nearly smacked him and couldn't speak for a long time. I just tensed up and stared at it, unsure if I should yell at him for being nonchalant or hug him for moral support.

"I have a plan," he said.

I jerked my head to him and glared. "What plan? You can't get out of it." I'd watched Steve try and fail, and though Curly was smarter than people gave him credit for, if Steve couldn't find a way to dodge it, Curly couldn't either.

"I'm going to purposefully fail the vision test, and if that don't work, I'll shoot myself in my leg or something."

"You're an idiot, you know that?"

I expected a smartass quip, but he just shrugged and lit a cigarette, and it was then that I noticed he was truly nervous about this. His detached attitude was his way of showing it.

"Tim know about your plan?" I asked, certain his brother would agree it was a bad idea. I'd heard of people doing that, but the people I knew didn't get out of it. They all tried and got sent over anyway, even a couple of the rich kids. They had a far better shot of dodging than most, but sometimes it didn't seem to matter these days.

Curly took a drag of the cigarette and exhaled slowly. "Tim's in the cooler."

I should've figured; jail news was nothing new with them. He'd been there a handful of times himself, and I guess it was kind of a Shepard rite of passage or something. Even Angela had been arrested once, and I swore they compared their sentences for bragging rights.

"What for?" I asked.

"Got caught lifting hubcaps, and you know, you don't go to juvie no more when you're of age, sweetheart." He winked and handed me a cigarette

I sighed and let him light it for me.

I felt strange; no matter how many times I'd hung around him in the past year, I still couldn't believe I was sitting with him at Buck's. This was my best friend's brother; he'd be as off limits as if she tried to date Steve, but we weren't romantic.

I wasn't sure what we were—friends most of the time, but I was sure there was nothing romantic. Whether he was truly hesitant to take the next step or simply paranoid my brother could kick his ass all the way from Vietnam, I didn't know. I was glad for it honestly. I didn't want to date him; he frustrated me enough without having romantic ties, but he was an alright guy, I guess.

He had a tough reputation, much like his brother. Only Curly had personality. Tim never talked to me much, and to be honest, he kind of scared me… Maybe he was one of those people you needed to get to know, but Curly was different; if you met him for the first time, you'd sooner assume he was just a regular guy you'd go out and have a beer with on the weekends.

I still don't remember when we became friends. I remember him teasing Angela incessantly when we were kids. One time he gutted her doll to see if there were organs inside, and for a long time after that, I disliked him simply because Angela did, but now that we were all older, it was weird.

She was a married dropout, and he by some miracle graduated. Barely, but he did. People thought was dumb, but he really wasn't; just impulsive as hell.

"Hey, don't tell Angela about this." He put out his cigarette and gave me an uneasy look. "Or Tim when he gets out, but especially not Angela or the entire universe will know… I haven't told anybody 'cept you yet."

I wasn't sure if I should be flattered or pissed at him. On one hand, it was nice to think he trusted me; on the other, I hated that he wanted me to keep it secret.

Steve did that to me; for a long time, he acted like more of an asshole than he usually was, and never told me why. And then one fine day, I found out he'd been drafted. It all made sense then, and I didn't want him to do that to Angela, but he was staring at me with so much worry in his eyes. "Please," he said. "I don't want her to worry about it. It'll all be for nothing if I get out of it."

So it wasn't okay to let her worry, but it was okay to dump it all on me? When _my_ brother was over there? Yeah, that was real courteous of him. "You're a jerk, Curly."

"Is that a yes?"

Despite my reluctance, I nodded. I was gonna regret this later…

He leaned in, and for a split second, I thought he might kiss me, but he stopped a foot away from my mouth and tugged on my braid slightly. "Thanks, kid."

xxxx

I let the water run over me. The hot water was going out, but it still felt amazing, and for a few split seconds, I was able to relax and not worry about the information Curly told me.

Not to mention Steve who I hadn't received a letter from in nearly a month.

"Julia, you're runnin' up a bill in there." Dad banged his fists against the locked bathroom door.

"Be out in a minute," I called back, even though I wouldn't be.

I knew Dad didn't understand the need to shower every day, but the bill part was bullshit. He had no stake to complain. I paid both the water and electric bill the past two months. Got 'em in moments before they were due using my tip money from my job at the diner, and I'd probably pay 'em again this month if we intended to have water and electricity.

I didn't know about him, but as a teenage girl, I sure as hell wasn't going without either.

He had no right to complain when it was my money. I wasn't sure what his problem was lately; his job just wasn't bringing in what it used to or the money was going somewhere I didn't want to know about, but paying a couple of the bills was better than living on my own and paying everything. I don't think they'd let you do that at fifteen anyway.

Besides I don't know what he'd do if I left him. We were both worried about Steve, and even though he did a piss poor job of showing it, it was obvious he cared about me.

I sighed and tried to relax, but the shower was hardly relaxing anymore, not when I felt in a rush to get out. The water sputtered out of the showerhead in an uneven stream, there were cracks in the tub, and it was only a matter of time before the entire house went to shambles starting with the bathroom.

xxxx

When I got out, I was determined to head straight to my room, but then I noticed my father at the kichen table. His face was buried in his hands and he looked downright miserable. I decided to approach him.

"Hey, Dad."

He turned and looked a bit shocked to see me. His eyes were red from what I assumed were tears, but he swallowed and pulled himself together. "Where were you tonight?" he asked.

"Just hangin' out with friends," I said, pulling a chair out to sit down.

"Nice to see you have friends now," he said. "I thought you might be the weird kid forever."

It was supposed to be a compliment, but it certainly didn't sound like one. "Yeah, me too."

We sat in silence for a long time, our typical means of communication. We didn't talk to each other much, if at all, unless he was yelling at me about something stupid, or I was yelling back about something equally stupid.

"You okay?" I asked, not able to stand the tension any longer.

He nodded, but the real answer was written all over his face. He was only thirty-six, but he looked about fifty; he'd aged so much in the past couple years, and it accelerated off the charts when Steve left. If I ever doubted he cared about Steve, I knew he definitely did now. I'd seen how he anxious he was when he waited for the mail or how he stared blankly at the TV when he watched the news.

"_You_ okay?" he asked back.

I froze for a moment. Nobody had asked me that in a long time.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I told him.

I'd worked too hard to keep myself together up until this point to let myself break apart.

xxxx

Angela and I worked at the same diner where she'd gotten me the job not even a year ago. It was called Paula's and was relatively popular for a small place; it seemed to be an okay place to go no matter who you were.

Angela liked the job better than I did. She flirted with the customers to earn herself bigger tips, and maybe I was a stuck up, but I just couldn't do that without feeling disgusting. She always out-earned me in double, but I guess it's not that hard when you have boobs like hers…

We were standing outside on a smoke break, or more my actual break, and she decided to join me. The boss would yell at her, but I think he realized there were a fair number of male customers who came just to see her. It creeped me out, and I'd told her so a few times even, but I'd learned a long time ago that Angela was the kind of person who did the exact opposite of whatever you told her to do.

"James lost his job again," she said, her tone casual. "What a dipshit. I definitely wear the pants in our partnership, if you can even call it that."

I had no doubts she did. She had her husband so whipped, I almost felt bad for the guy, but it was also comforting. It's natural to worry about someone as young as her getting married, natural to think the man's taking advantage of her, but not in her case. The only think he took advantage of was her earning all the money; she had him baited in every other regard.

"Sometimes, I think I should just divorce him and let him drown in his own shit," she added. "But then the son of a bitch gets all romantic like and makes me love him again. I hate that."

"I know what you mean."

"No, you don't. You've never had a boyfriend. Unless Leslie counts, and I don't want to know what you and Curly are doing, but please God, tell me you'll never date him…"

"I can assure you I never will."

She huffed and shook her head slightly. "God, James is frustrating… We ain't having a baby, goddamnit. You know what he told me last night? That he wants to be a daddy someday. I don't want no goddamned kids."

I smirked at her, I'd heard this before, but she kept rambling.

"I hate kids. They're needy and disgusting, but at least I know I'd make a bad mother. He'll be an awful father, but still he thinks it's a good idea…Can't tell the stubborn piece of shit otherwise." She sighed and got serious for a moment. "I don't wanna subject a kid to having us as parents, you know? Fuck, they'd be in a mental hospital by the time they're ten… Can you honestly see me as a mother, Julia?"

I couldn't tell if this was one of those rhetorical questions she'd yell at me for answering, but the way she was staring at me told me this was a legitimate concern for her. "No," I said.

"Thank you! Now go tell him that." She popped another cigarette in her mouth and let it dangle between her lips as she rummaged around her purse for a lighter. She lit it and as she took a drag, the franticness was already subsiding.

"Tell my mother too," she added. "She's itchin' for a grandbaby. I told her 'Go bug Tim'. He's probably got a kid or two he don't even know about it… Speaking of Tim, he got himself hauled in again."

"Yeah, Curly told me about that."

She raised an eyebrow. "You really are slumming around with my brother, aren't you?"

"Depends on what you mean by that," I answered honestly. Slept with him? Never. Kissed him? Not even close, but lately she took anything I said about Curly as a sign I was interested.

"Trust me when I say you don't want him." She waved her free hand in the air slightly to emphasize her words. "He's an asshole, and I can say that, 'cause he's my brother and you know I love him, but he's an asshole, Julia. An asshole."

No more of an asshole than you are a bitch, I felt like saying.

It was true. I think you had to expect that if you were going to hang around any one of them. They were tough people who were mostly alright once you got to know them, and though I never thought it possible, Curly was one of the few reasons I was still sane since Steve left.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own.

* * *

_Wednesday, October 8th, 1969_

The next day marked the first time I'd gone to school all week.

I stared at the test in front of me, an Algebra exam, and while I managed to get three-quarters of the way through without stopping, I was now stuck on the final questions. Damn polynomials or whatever the hell these were called. I really didn't give a shit about x's, y's, or z's, and it was beyond me why letters and numbers had to coexist, but if I attended more, I'd probably know why.

Who'd have guessed school could be easier if you attended, but that wasn't enough to convince me to go. As long as my grades stayed B's and C's and no one bugged me to get here every day, I'd go when convenient. At least I didn't ditch just to ditch, like I did with Angela back in Junior high; no, I was earning money out of it. Money to buy decent clothes, money to buy makeup, money to pay the bills my Dad didn't, and if I kept the same amount of hours, I might even save up enough to get a car by the time I was a senior. It was a distant dream, but it kept me motivated. Not a brand new one or anything fancy like that, just something Steve could fix up when he got home.

When I thought about all that, dropping out made sense. Would a girl like me ever go to college? No. Did a high school degree really matter? Probably not.

But Steve graduated, and somehow that kept me here. If I gave up early, he could use his diploma as bragging rights, one more reason he was smarter than me or something like that. On some level I knew it was more than just my brother teasing me; he _did _want me to graduate, even told me so once, but with him gone, it was more and more tempting to cut it all short.

I stared at the test a few minutes longer. This was as far as I was gonna get, so I turned it in unfinished. At least the first part carried enough points for a C; I should aim for more, but a C was average.

A C was passing, and that's all you really needed anyway, right?

xxxx

I skipped my last classes and walked home to take a nap, but when I got there, I wasn't the only one home. Dad was too, passed out on the couch, and while I thought I might be able to sneak past him, he woke up right away. "Why ain't you in school?" he demanded.

"Why ain't you at work?" This had become a pattern, and it frustrated me.

"I'm sick."

Sick mentally maybe, but otherwise it was just another bullshit excuse. "Sick or not, you're gonna have to bring some money in." I crossed my arms and glared at him. "I can't pay it all this month and I shouldn't have to. I'm a fifteen year old kid for Christ's sakes."

He glared back. "You can leave if you ain't happy with how I do shit."

"I could, but if I left, could you pay anything?"

Silence.

I raised an eyebrow.

His face grew red, but he said nothing. He knew I was right; I felt like a bitch holding that over him, but I'd take power where I could get it, and_ this_ gave me a lot of power.

Most of our conversations ended this way. He'd push, and sometimes he'd explode, but if you waited long enough, he'd give up. I wasn't afraid of him anymore. He'd all but given up on trying to be a father when it came to setting rules and boundaries, and sometimes it felt like I was more of the parent to him. I acted more responsible at least.

Steve never had the patience to put up with the bullshit, and that's why they fought all the time, but unfortunately I did. He pissed me off something awful, and I'd think and say all sorts of terrible things about him, but in the end, it was all just a bunch of talk that rarely made it to his ears.

Deep down, I think he appreciated it; he might say I could leave if I wanted to, but he'd never once kicked me out the way he used to Steve.

I gave him another dirty look and retreated to my room to take the nap I wanted.

He said nothing to stop me.

xxxx

When I woke up, Dad was gone.

There was a note on the counter saying he left for work. I doubted that, but at least I wouldn't have to endure the awkward silence that loomed whenever we were in the same room.

I grabbed my purse, figuring I'd find somewhere to be that wasn't here. On the way out, I checked the mailbox, hoping to see something from Steve, but once again, nothing.

I sat down on the steps and lit a cigarette, determined not to overthink this, but even the nicotine couldn't stop my thought processes. My brother said he'd write me, and he had as regularly as he could for a few months, but then it just stopped. I'd worried since the day they stopped flooding in. That probably meant things were getting bad for him—wherever he was.

Sometimes I wanted to visit Sodapop Curtis. He was honorably discharged after getting shot in the back; they had no use for him if he couldn't walk anymore, so he was out for good, but I was afraid about what he'd tell me if he told me anything at all. There were rumors he was real messed up and in a mental hospital somewhere, and I didn't have the guts to find out if they were true.

You just didn't talk to people about shit like that; there was no way to do it without sounding insensitive, but my imagination was killing me. Every time I saw a news report, worst case scenarios flashed through my head, and I couldn't help thinking that might be my brother.

Talking to Soda wouldn't help anyway. He and Steve weren't in the same platoon, so even if he did tell me something, it probably wouldn't pertain to Steve, unless Steve was writing him and not me for some reason. They were best friends, practically brothers, so sometimes I wondered, but that didn't seem likely—Evie hadn't heard from him either.

I put out my cigarette and booked it with no destination in mind. I'd walk until I cleared my mind.

Thinking about things was my problem; if I'd dwelled on it too long, I'd start crying, and I'd stopped being a crybaby a while ago.

xxxx

My destination ended up being the Shepard's, not by choice, but when I passed the house, Curly was sitting on the porch and flagged me down. "Hey, stranger."

I sighed and drug my feet to join him. When I was within a couple feet, I noticed his face was black and blue. "You get in a fight?"

"Did I get in a fight?" he chuckled. "You should be askin' me which one."

I rolled my eyes. Multiple spats in one night wouldn't surprise me. He was kind of person who'd use any excuse to beat up somebody, but he didn't have to act so damn proud about it.

"I dunno, whichever one gave you that shiner." I pointed to his face.

"Oh this? That was Mathews."

"Two-Bit?"

"Don't call him that. He's too old to go by that stupid nickname."

"What in the world were you fightin' Two-Bit for?" I asked, purposefully ignoring his request. I happened to know he still liked his stupid nickname, so I'd give him the benefit of calling him by it.

He shrugged. "I dunno. I was blitzed, he was blitzed. Seemed like the thing to do at the t—" He stopped and jerked his head toward the sound of shattering glass.

I heard the same thing, followed by a man's voice: "How the fuck am I s'pposed to earn us a living if I ain't got clean clothes to wear to work, huh? I asked you to do one thing. One goddamned thing!"

Curly's Mom had a voice just as shrill as Angela's—you couldn't make out the words she was saying under the hot air, but they were said with such intensity, it made the hair the back of your neck stand still.

"Ignore it, they'll get over it in a minute," Curly told me, but not even seconds later, he sprang up and ran inside.

More yelling. This time all three of them. It seemed to go on forever, and I was mighty tempted to get up and leave, but then I thought Curly might be counting on me to stay.

The door swung open, and Curly's stepdad stormed out; he paused only for a split second to sneer at me before I heard the sound of tires shrieking.

Curly emerged and plopped down beside me.

We sat in silence for several minutes.

"So I lied about it bein' Mathews..." He sighed and rubbed his temples. "It was Earl, but I dunno why I'm telling you this..."

"Shit, Curly, I'm sorry," I said, at a loss for anything else.

"I did get in a fight with Mathews not too long ago though," he said, careful to switch the topic back to something comfortable. "He thought I was cheatin' at poker 'cause I just so happen to be better at bluffing than him."

"Somehow they doesn't surprise me." I'd always remember the time Curly beat my brother at poker and how pissed Steve was about it; he went on and on and on about how Curly was supposed to be an airhead and how Tim must've rigged the deck of cards. To this day, he probably didn't forgive Curly for beating him. Probably never would.

"You know, I dunno why I live at home with all this shit," Curly said, shaking his head. "It's stupid."

"No, it ain't," I told him. "You love your mom."

He grimaced at me. I'd assume love wasn't a word he liked to hear unless he was about to sleep with somebody, but it was true. He did care about his mother. I knew he did.

"She really oughta divorce that lousy son of a bitch." He clenched his fists. "But guess what? She don't believe in divorce. He'd have to leave her, jus' like my old man did."

"She deserves better."

Curly nodded and fell silent. The conversation had taken another turn for serious, and neither of us knew what to say anymore—we weren't "talk about our problems" kind of people.

I felt like there was something more I should say. I couldn't imagine being caught in his mother's situation. My dad and ex step mom sure bickered a lot, but they didn't get physical about it, and it was a blessing. I couldn't have handled seeing my dad treat Rosie that way, even if I still kind of resented her for cheating on him. We'd talked more in the last year, but I saw the things I didn't see when I was a kid now—that she was just as damaged and flawed as my old man and he was just as much the victim as her.

She was so young. Twenty seemed old to me when they got married, but now it only made me think she was needy and desperate, and that she was. Her kid looked like my dad though. She told me she was sure it wasn't his, but whenever I saw that kid, I was certain it was my little half-brother.

"It ain't like I can do much," Curly started up again, much to my surprise. "If I pick a fight with him, maybe I'll win like I just did. Maybe I'll lose like I did last night. Maybe he'll get half a mind to threaten me with his shotgun as a means to kick me out again."

My eyes grew wide. "That's insane. He could probably get in legal trouble for that."

He shrugged, trying to act tough about it. "Ain't like I've never had a gun pointed at me before," he said. "He wouldn't pull the trigger anyway, and if he did, there's a law saying you can shoot a man who trespasses in your home. He'd pull that card an' say he kicked me out for mooching off him. That I was trying to steal from them or some bullshit like that. I have a record, you know."

"Wouldn't your mom defend you?"

He stared at me for a moment. "Screw these hypothetical situations," he waved it off. "Say, Angela looked suspicious when I saw her today. You didn't say nothin', did ya?"

"No, but she thinks we're an item. That's probably what's got her acting funny."

He started laughing, like he was truly amused by it. "Please, you ain't bad enough for my liking…"

"Well, you're too bad for mine."

"I'm flattered you feel that way," he said. "Means I'm upholding this fine reputation."

I rolled my eyes. "If you enjoy being an asshole, then congratulations, I guess."


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns the Outsiders.

* * *

_Wednesday, October 22nd, 1969_

Curly and I started hanging out more over the next couple weeks. Whether it was that serious conversation we'd had or simply neither of us had anything better to do, I didn't know, but I was glad for it. It seemed like when I wasn't working I was hanging out at Buck's with him.

I needed that too. Steve was still gone, and though I could count every passing day as one day sooner he'd be home, it didn't help much. I was still on edge, and despite my best efforts, it was starting to show.

It'd been exactly three weeks since I almost failed that Algebra test, and I realized I was screwed when it came to cutting class. Maybe my brain wasn't where it needed to be under all the stress, but I couldn't help but feel jealous; Steve could've passed anything you put in front of him, but me, I _had_ to try.

I expected a C and got a D, and for whatever reason, that one letter drop made all the difference when it came to teachers getting on your case about things. It ended up being the reason I made "friends" with a truancy officer and was forced against my will to start attending class.

The threat of getting taken away from my father kept me in line. It wasn't that I wanted to live with him. If I had my way, I'd live on my own, but my home was better than a girl's home or foster care. Or worse, living with Aunt Rita or Uncle Rick again. I'd take my dumbass father over his dumbass relatives any day.

At least attending daily gave me something to do, something to eat up the time that wasn't spent working or with Curly. So I went, I did my work, my grades became B's, and everything was just fine and dandy; only it wasn't.

It seemed like the only good news was Curly not getting sent over. Before his physical, he drank enough caffeine to make his blood pressure shoot off the charts. It worked so well the doctor examining him diagnosed him with a heart condition and demanded he eat less salt in his diet. That was the first time I saw coffee do so much damage to a person. He threw up multiple times and didn't sleep three nights in a row, but in the end it was worth it. He didn't have to go over, and I wished now I could go back in time and tell Steve to do the same thing. Curly's only worry now was how pissed Angela was he didn't tell her about it right away, and it was my worry too. Once she heard I'd known, she gave me the cold shoulder for a long time.

Up until this evening when she pulled me aside after work.

"I'm sorry, Jule," she whispered to me. "I heard about Steve… I didn't know. No wonder you've been actin' strange."

I raised an eyebrow. "What about him?" If she didn't know he was in Nam by now, she was living in some fantasy universe.

"I heard he's MIA," she spoke slowly.

I stared at her for a long time, praying she was joking. "What?"

"Listen, I know I've been a lousy friend, but you don't have to pretend everything's alright, okay?"

She placed her hand on my shoulder, and I glared at her. "What the hell are you talkin' about?"

Her eyes grew wide. "You don't know your own brother is missing in action?"

I shook my head and backed myself up to the wall.

I watched her, studying her facial features for signs that she was lying, but I found none. "I didn't know," I told her. "No one … no one told me."

Anger crept up within me, realizing how upset my father had been this whole time, how he'd been getting worse, how he'd been even more worthless than usual, and it hit me he knew this entire time… He knew. It made sense now why he'd been so despondent, and I could hardly contain how upset I was. Angela tried to hug me, but I shoved her away and stormed out

It was bullshit that my best friend should know something like this before me. He was _my _brother, not hers.

I focused on that anger and dwelled and dwelled and dwelled.

I know how Steve kept himself from crying now, and it was by staying angry.

xxxx

When I got home, he was laying on the couch, staring up at our cracked ceiling.

"You're home early," I said. He didn't reply. "Hey Dad, you hear anything about Steve lately?"

He shook his head to that, and it made my blood boil. For the next hour, I dropped hints left and right and even flat out asked him if there was something he was keeping from me, but he just kept denying and told me to quit being ridiculous. I couldn't take it anymore. I ran to his room and headed straight to the drawer where I knew he kept important things. Years ago, I'd found pictures of my dead mother in that very drawer, but today I'd find the MIA notice he should've shown me weeks ago.

I stared at it for a moment, wondering why Dad hadn't chased after me when he saw where I was headed. He used to smack me upside the head for daring to set foot in his room, but today he was glued to that goddamned couch, same way he was every day.

Running a hand over my face, I took a deep breath and ran out to confront him. "Care to explain this?" I asked, shacking the notice in front of his face.

He sat up but stared off to the side, ignoring me.

"Why the hell didn't you tell me?"

My hands trembled I was so worked up. I'd kept quiet too long, and now it was exploding. "You're worthless, you know that? Worthless. You can't even tell me we got a goddamned… I don't even..." I trailed off too pissed to complete my thought.

I threw it at him and watched his face for a reaction, but no reaction came.

Dad said nothing. Years ago, he might've screamed himself hoarse or hided me, but tears just streamed down his face.

"You got anything to say?" I demanded. "Anything? You know as well as I do what this means." I pointed to the MIA notice on the ground and glared at him. "You couldn't do me the decency of putting me out of my misery now? You think it'll be any easier to think he's coming home in a month and then find out he's dead? Because my father couldn't tell me the damn truth?!"

He inched closer to me and tried to pull me into a hug, but I pushed him away and slapped him.

"Julia, please," he begged.

He grasped my shoulders, but I shook myself from his grip and stormed away. "Fuck you."

xxxx

Alone in my room, I cried into my pillow for nearly an hour.

I hadn't cried since the day he left, but I was sobbing uncontrollably now.

I'll always remember that day. It was beautiful outside. Not too hot, not too cold. Apparently Mother Earth didn't hear it was supposed to be a solemn occasion.

The entire time I remember trying to keep myself together for him. The last thing I wanted him to see before he went was me a sobbing mess, but I couldn't help it. I cried and cried and cried, and he spent those last few minutes reassuring me when I should've been reassuring him.

"I'm gonna be okay, kid," he told me. "I'm smart and tough. They got nothin' on me."

I wanted to slap him for sounding cocky then, but instead I hugged him. "You better be okay."

"I will," he promised. "Don't cry. Not now."

I nodded and rested my head against his chest, holding on to him as tightly as I could.

"You're gonna be okay now," he said, and I let go of him so he could say his goodbyes to Evie.

I watched them both. She was sobbing even harder than I was, and when he released her, he approached me once more.

He cupped my face in his hands and brushed the mess of hair out of my eyes.

His eyes were wet, but none of the tears had fallen. "Be good, Julia."

Those were the last words he spoke to me, and now that he was MIA, they might be the last words he'd ever speak to me.

I wasn't sure how to handle it.

Dad came into my room a while later and sat on my bed. I wanted to tell him to get lost, but I lacked the energy to yell at him. He touched my back, and I pulled my head out of the pillow to look at him. I stared at him, unsure what to do, until he held his arms out to me. Despite how angry I was, I accepted the hug and let him comfort me; it was rare for him to do this. It was rare when I was a kid and even rarer now that I was fifteen.

I wanted to hate him for what he did, but I was too exhausted to fight his affection.

"You're right," he said after several minutes. "I should've told you." He choked out a sob and swallowed, doing his best to compose himself. "I'm so sorry."

The apology didn't put a bandaid on anything, but it was a start.

I told myself not to think the worst. Missing and dead weren't the same things.

Steve was still alive, I repeated to myself, and I'd repeat it over and over and over again.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I don't own.

* * *

_Saturday, November 1st, 1969_

The rest of October passed slowly into November, but the funny thing was I didn't remember much from it. I know I kept attending school, and I know I want to some stupid Halloween party last night with Curly, but it was hard, having to wonder about my brother the way I did.

I'd become a zombie, going through all the motions, doing everything that was necessary and nothing more. I couldn't. Every minute of every day, I pretended everything was okay, but it wasn't; I was anxious all the time. I couldn't consider my brother alive. I couldn't even consider him dead as much as it pained me to admit. We knew nothing, we were told nothing, and every day became another day of waiting. It could go on for years like this if they never found his body, and how many years would it have to be before me and Dad gave up hope? I wished Angela hadn't said a thing. Maybe I wanted to be lied too. I'd spent a good portion of my early teen years frustrated over the lies Dad told me, and now I wanted to be that ignorant, stupid, little kid again.

"Earth to Julia." Angela waved her hand in front of my face. We'd just walked out of the diner, and for the first time in a long time, our shifts had ended at the same time.

"Welllll? You wanna go to Buck's with me or not?" She spoke slowly and loudly, like he was speaking to a deaf old lady.

I wasn't sure I wanted to go anywhere, but I shrugged and told her why not.

We started walking to her place in silence. It was no use going to mine, not when the only person I could look forward to coming home to was my damn father, so I had to admit, it would be nice to get out, but the silence was odd. It was rare moment when Angela I were both quiet. I didn't mind quiet, but Angela couldn't stand it and filled instantaneously with her endless chatter. "Tonight sure was a good night tip wise," she said, and I groaned inwardly. She sure liked to brag about the tips she earned.

"Good night for you maybe..."

"If you want, I can show ya how to get better tips… It ain't hard."

I gave her a look that said I wasn't interested, but she kept talking. "Look, it might be a little embarrassing for someone like you, but if you show a little skin…"

"I'm not itchin' to be skanky."

She glared at me. "It ain't skanky if you do it right. God, Julia, you don't show a _lot_. That's slutty, but a little goes a long way with some. See, all men are stupid. They all think they'll get more later, but they don't. Not from me anyway. I just keep them wanting…and it works."

I rolled my eyes. Yeah, because it works that way every single time, Angel… She was gonna get herself in trouble with that kind of thinking someday. What happened when the guy she was teasing got irritated and demanded what he wanted? She was too confident in her abilities. Maybe she was lucky a decent number of them knew she was Tim's sister. I guess it was fair to say if anybody went too far, he'd teach them a lesson they wouldn't soon forget. Curly would too come to think of it.

"You're real silent." Angela nudged me to get my attention. "You doin' alright?"

"Fine," I told her, but she saw right through it.

She stopped walking and grabbed ahold of my shoulders. "Listen, Jule, we're gonna go to Buck's, and we're gonna have fun tonight, okay? No expections."

"Okay…" I said, at a loss for anything else.

"And we'll stop by my place so we look good too." She smiled and patted my cheek. "Let's do this."

She looped her arm in mine and drug me to her apartment, which was conveniently three blocks from where we worked and a short jaunt from Buck's; she probably planned it that way when she started renting there.

"Hey." Her husband James waved at me when we stepped inside. "Nice to see ya, Angie. It's been a couple days." It still was lost on me how she allowed him to call her Angie when she hated him so much. When we were kids, she made it very clear "Angel" was her nickname, so most of us called her that, but apparently James could call her Angie. It was things like that that made me think she still loved the man…

"We're only gettin' one channel again, babe." He was messing with the foil on the TV antenna. "And as you can see, even that one ain't comin' in."

"Boo hoo," she sneered. "Why don't you get a goddamned job, huh?"

"I'm lookin' for one," he said, still focused getting the antenna just right.

She rolled her eyes and drug me to their bathroom. "We'll paint your face up good tonight," she told me, smiling.

"You don't have to. I can do my own makeup…"

"Let me, please?" She pulled blue eye shadow out of a drawer among other things. She clearly had a plan, which always scared me. "C'mon, it'll look great on you." She pushed me to take a seat on the toilet seat cover. "It'll look better on you than me I think. You've got the right skin tone for it."

"Really?"

She nodded. "Mhmm."

"Alright, go ahead then I guess."

What could I say? Despite all my hesitation, I trusted her. The girl could've been a beautician…

As she did my makeup, I couldn't help but think of all the times she made me feel like crap about my appearance, and how she gave me nothing but compliments now. It made me wonder if she was jealous of me when we were kids, but there was nothing to be jealous about. I was an awkward looking kid, and she'd always been gorgeous.

Still, one of the times stood out in my memory. I must've been about eleven or twelve, and she told me my opinions about fashion didn't mean a thing 'cause I wasn't grown up, and by that, she meant I didn't have boobs or my period yet. Neither of which came until I was nearly fourteen, and I still didn't have a chest to speak of, but I remembered being so irritated about it I sulked for an entire afternoon. I was kind of dramatic at twelve, as much as it pains me to admit now.

And of course Steve teased me about it.

He'd seen me lying on my bedroom floor with the door wide open like I was waiting for a flood to come drown me and carry me away with it or something. "Jesus, you're actin' like it's the end of the world again." He sighed, standing in my doorway. "What's your problem this time?"

"You'll think it's stupid…" I told him. Even back then I had a sense my irritation was over nothing important, but being the self-centered kid I was, I didn't care. I was angry and wanted the entire world to know, but at the same time I wanted no one to know, and it still surprises me to this day why Steve was so nice to me about it. In his own way of course.

"Probably," he'd agreed. "But why don't you go ahead and give me a shot anyway, huh?"

I remembered scowling at him, but when he raised an eyebrow, I decided to start talking. "Angela always teases me," I whined. "Whenever I tell her somethin', she says I don't know nothing 'cause I ain't grown up like her yet…"

He laughed at me then, and boy did it piss me off.

"It ain't funny!" I snapped at him as I pulled myself up. "I'm just an ugly little kid, and that's all I'll ever be…" Now, my words make me laugh too, and I guess that's why it was so funny to him, but I'll never forget the rest of our conversation.

Steve knelt down and pulled my hands away from my face, forcing me to look at him. "Listen, kid, I _wish_ you were ugly."

"How could you possibly wish that?"

"Well, if you're ugly, guys'll never look at you," he told me, and at the time, I wasn't sure if I should be flattered or offended. "No more whining over stupid shit, okay? Glory, I swear all you girls are crazy... I don't freak out like this when one of my friends says somethin' like that to me; I just punch 'em and call it good."

"And that's any better?"

"Don't get smart, kid. I'm tryin' to be nice to you."

I didn't realize it then, but he'd inadvertently told me I was pretty by telling me he wished I was ugly, and from him that was a decent compliment. I missed him so much, I'd give anything to hear another backhanded compliment; hell, I'd even take his anger if I could see him again.

"Done."

Angela's voice pulled me out of my thoughts. I got up and stared at my reflection in the mirror.

Holy shit, I could hardly recognize myself with all the eye makeup. I looked like one of those models from the magazines, only I didn't have the figure.

She smiled. "Well, what do ya think?"

"It's different."

I wasn't sure if I loved it or hated it, but all I could think about was what Steve's facial expression might be if he saw it. He wouldn't have to say a word; the look would say everything, and I felt guilty.

Of course he couldn't see me, but wherever he was, I still felt like he could. It made me wanna scrub every layer of makeup off my face and go home before Angela could drag me to Buck's. When I really thought about it, he wouldn't like me going there either… If he were home, I wouldn't care as much; I'd go and do what I wanted, perhaps even in an effort to piss him off, but with him gone, it didn't seem right.

Still, I ignored my better judgment and followed Angela anyway…

xxxx

When we got there, she set a drink in front of me. If you wanted to drink underage, Buck's was where it happened. I wasn't a heavy drinker. I mostly just smoked. Everyone in my family did, so it was only a matter of time before I got hooked on the habit myself, but if I drank at all, it was an odd beer or two.

I didn't like the taste much, but I did like how it made me socially comfortable.

"Angel."

We both turned around, surprised at the sound of her brother's voice, and it wasn't Curly's.

"Tim," she hissed. "You got out early."

He gave a hard nod.

"When the fuck were you planning on telling me?" She got out of her seat and smacked him, not hard. She didn't want to hug him, so I guess this why how she was going to tell him she missed him.

"Tonight," he answered, grabbing her wrist so she couldn't hit him again. "I was gonna stop by here and the next stop woulda been your place..."

"Bullshit."

"I'm a man of my word," he said. "C'mon, Angel. We need to talk."

His tone was so impatient I didn't know how she could stand to argue with him, but of course she would. "About what?" she asked.

"You're tryin' my patience." He was calmer than I'd have expected but still angry.

She rolled her eyes. "Like you've ever had any."

"C'mon, Angela, let's go."

"No thanks," she told him. "As you can see, I'm a little busy with my friend right now."

He gave her a glare that scared me seven times more than it did her. It said this was the last time he was going to request nicely… "I'm sure Julia doesn't mind," he said, glancing at me. I couldn't tell if he wanted me to agree with him or just leave, but before I could decide, he'd already ushered her away.

Good luck, Angel, I thought. I couldn't imagine that being a fun conversation, but she probably deserved it. I could only guess he'd heard about a few things she'd pulled while he was locked away… Besides, I couldn't help but envy her. Even if Tim might chew her out, her brother wasn't potentially dead.

xxxx

I sat alone and waited on her return for a long time until Curly noticed me. I didn't expect him to be here, so it was a nice surprise.

"Wow," he exclaimed as he sat down.

"Wow what?"

"Wow, your face."

I shrugged. "Your sister did it."

"Now I know why I hate it."

"C'mon, it ain't that bad…"

I took a sip of my beer, and he smirked at me. "What?" I asked.

"You look like a clown."

"So you're sayin' your sister looks like a clown most of the time then?"

"It's a known fact she does."

"You guys talkin' about me?" There was Angela.

I turned around. She propped a hand on her hip and gave us both an icy glare. Her innate sense of when people were talking about her never ceased to impress me. "How'd your talk with Tim go?" I asked.

"How do you think it went?"

"Not good?" I guessed.

"He's just as ornery as he's always been."

"Well, maybe if you didn't give us so many reasons not to trust you, he wouldn't have to be," Curly told her.

"Shut up." She whipped around and huffed at him. "Know what he said about you? That it was a damn shame he got locked up again 'cause you do a piss poor job handling things on your own."

Curly scowled and crossed his arms. "Yeah, well … Tim's an asshole."

"No shit, but you're an even worse one."

He grinned at that. "Oh yeah?"

"I'm outta here before I have to listen to either of your bullshit." She started walking away. "Julia, you comin'?"

I sighed. "Where're you goin'?"

"Anywhere that ain't here. I can't even enjoy a night out with my friends without one of them spoiling it."

"Just go right ahead and pitch your fit, Angel," Curly taunted her. "We all know you're gonna do it."

She flipped him off and turned back to me. "See?" She pointed to him.

"But we just got here…" I said, picking up half empty beer. "C'mon, Angel, don't be like this."

She gave me her infamous pleading eyes. "Jule, please? We were supposed to have fun tonight…"

"And we still can," I told her. "But I wanna stay here."

"Fine, I'll leave you and Charles alone here so you can get a room," she spat. "That's what you want anyway, right?"

I didn't know who was more pissed: me or Curly.

"Shut your goddamned mouth, Angel." He got up and approached her.

He towered over her, but she didn't seem to give a shit. She glared right back. "If you're so defensive about it, it must be true."

"Angela…" I said from where I was.

She stared at me, her expression softer than I expected. "You know, I wouldn't give a shit if you bothered to tell me… You're my best friend, and you can't even do that?"

She shook her head at me. I hated it when she did this, she sure knew how to make me feel bad, but the problem was there was nothing _to_ tell her. I liked Curly, and maybe it was safe to say I had a small crush on him, but I didn't wanna sleep with him. I liked that I could hang around him and not have to worry about him trying anything…

"Honest, Angel, we're just friends."

"Friends my ass."

She stormed away before I could even reply.

"Tim sure put her in a pissy mood, huh?"

I didn't answer Curly. I sighed and looked down at my drink. After being her friend for this long, I should be used to our fights by now, but every time I felt like shit. Even though she was a bitch sometimes, she was still a good friend…

"Sorry, Curly." I got up and turned to leave. "But I think I should go find her and…"

"And what?" He got up and stopped me. "Apologize to her? So help me if you do that… Don't let her think she's right, 'cause lord knows how that'll end up."

"I know, but –"

"But what?"

I sighed and pressed a hand to my forehead. I didn't know what. I just hated us being at odds like this. Maybe I was making a big deal out of nothing, but I was so stressed lately I needed my best friend to be my friend right now.

"Hey." He tapped my shoulder and I slowly put my hand down to look at him. "She'll get over herself. You've been her friend how long?"

I shrugged.

"C'mon, you have to know by now she always throws a fit when she doesn't get her way," he went on. "Tim probably chewed her out good, and then you told her you wanted to stay here? Of course she's gonna freak out. All and all, another classic Angela tantrum if you ask me."

"Yeah, you're probably right.

"Not probably. I _am_ right, so sit down and enjoy your beer."

I forced a smile and told myself I _would_ enjoy the rest of the evening, but before I could take my seat, we heard a loud bang.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I don't own.

* * *

Screams, gasps, and shouts erupted across Buck's.

I ducked under the table, knocking my beer all over myself and the floor. I turned to find Curly there with me; he clapped a hand over my mouth before I could say anything and shoved me under his arm.

We listened and waited… Another bang, and I knew it was a gunshot for sure.

I glanced to the side of me and saw a body on the floor. I flinched, and if Curly hadn't kept his hand over my mouth, I'd have screamed. I'd heard shots fired before, but I'd never once seen a dead body like this. The body wasn't moving, but still the man wielding the gun hurled three more bullets in his chest before scurrying out as fast as it happened.

Curly jumped out to see what had happened.

"Stay there," he told me when I tried to join him.

I assumed he wanted me to get back under the table, but instead I froze where I stood.

Curly flipped the body over and grimaced.

"You know this guy?" Buck asked.

Curly shook his head. His face grew paler, but he kept his calm, tuff demeanor about it. "I know the guy who shot him," he spoke so soft I could hardly hear him.

"Who?" Buck asked.

"Gene Gallagher." He swallowed hard and stood up. "He was in with us for about a year, and he and Tim fought somethin' awful."

Buck rubbed his temples. "Goddamned idiot," he mumbled under his breath. "We get the fuzz in here and they see I'm serving alcohol to kids? Kids like her?" He pointed to me, and I shifted back another foot. "Why the hell do you come here anyway, huh? I know for a fact your brother wouldn't fancy it."

He was right. When I thought about many times I'd been told to steer clear of Buck's, it made my stomach do somersaults. Steve would have a few things to say to me if he was here, and that was the understatement of the year.

"Everybody get the fuck outa here!" Buck clenched his fists. "Now. Scram!"

This was the angriest as I'd seen Buck in a long, long time. Despite his bad reputation, Buck might've been the calmest person I knew, but he was losing his marbles now.

"When the fuzz shows up, you're gonna want a witness, you idiot," Curly barked at him. "Or they'll think you did it."

"Alright, then you stay."

I moved to leave, but Curly stopped me.

I stood and watched as Buck shooed everyone else out, threatening to call in their tabs if they didn't listen.

He turned back to us. "What's she still doin' here?"

"Think they'll believe me if I tell them somethin'? Fuck, they'll think I did it with my record. I'm gettin' the hell outa here. She can be your witness."

"No," I protested. I just wanted to get out of there and go home. Maybe take a long shower or read a book, anything to forget about what I'd just seen… I wasn't giving a description to the cops. I felt awful for the man, but I didn't know them personally.

"You sure about this? Buck asked him.

"Positive. She ain't done nothin' bad in her entire life. They'll believe her."

"Curly, you son of a bitch, I said I don't want to," I snapped at him.

"Julia, listen." He gripped my shoulders and sighed. "You like comin' here, don't you?"

I nodded.

"Then you gotta do this for him."

"I'm underage, Curly," I said. "Don't you think they'll frown on that?"

"Maybe, but they'll frown upon whatever I tell them more. I gotta go now. It's already been too long."

"You can't leave me here alone!"

"Buck'll make sure you're alright, won't you Buck?"

Buck nodded.

"Trust me, this'll work out," he said, patting my cheek. "I'll head to your place, so just go home when you're done."

Before I could tell him my dad wouldn't be okay with that, he was gone.

I glanced to Buck. He gave me a weak smile and put a hand on my back. "Sorry, kid. This wouldn't have been my first choice…"

Somehow I believed that, and I'd wished Curly could've kept his bright ideas to himself, because the next several minutes petrified me.

I tried to keep myself from shaking when the cops arrived. Buck did most of the talking, but eventually I had to talk too.

The officer turned to me and asked me what I saw. I hesitated but managed to spew out something. I didn't remember what I told them, but they paid careful attention and wrote every word I said down. Curly was right, and lucky for me and Buck both, they seemed more focused on the murder than the kind of business Buck was operating.

The longer I stood there, and the longer they questioned me, the worse off I got. I mumbled what I'd assume were the appropriate replies, but my mind was too cluttered to remember what I'd said.

I didn't know why I expected myself to be after what I'd just seen.

xxxx

I couldn't have been more relieved when I was finally able to go home, and much to my shock, Curly was there, just as he said he'd be.

I scowled, still pissed at what he'd made me do. I understood why, but it didn't seem fair, and I was certain to turn into more of a head case than I'd already been the last several weeks after this.

He patted the spot next to him on the step he was sitting on, and I shook my head. "You crazy? It's freezing out here."

He shrugged. "It ain't that bad."

"C'mon, let's go inside." I stepped around him and unlocked the door. "My dad ain't home. His piece of shit car'd be in the driveway if he were." I could say that for certain. Steve had demanded we store his precious vehicle in the garage while he was gone, and even with him MIA, Dad honored that request.

We both took a seat on the couch, and I couldn't contain my annoyance any longer. "You know you were a real asshole making me stay there like that."

"What other choices did we have?"

"I dunno!" I snapped back. "You could've stopped Buck from getting everyone out of there and told him to make one of them do it."

"Well, sorry I was thinkin' quick, and it was the first convenient solution I saw," he defended himself, like it was a fact I was just supposed to accept. "I gotta cover my own ass sometimes. I mean, I got a record, ya know, and they could throw me in prison at the drop of a hat."

I planted my elbows on my knees and shoved my forehead into my hands. I knew that, but the whole experience had thrown me into this state of panic and frenzy. "I've never seen a dead body before," I said quietly. "Steve's probably seen thousands of him… God, I can't even imagine … and for all I know, he probably is one."

"Shut it," he snapped at me. "Don't talk like that. You don't know for sure."

I pulled my hands away from my face and glared at him, fighting off tears. "Well, what the hell would you think if Tim went over there and went missing, huh?"

He shifted his gaze to the floor for a second. "I'd be even more messed up than you are," he admitted. "But please don't start this worst case scenario bullshit, alright? It seems like everybody I know does that. My family, my friends, strangers… All over the East Side, everybody whines, and it pisses me off. We all just sit around and complain about how terrible things are and how much worse they're gonna get, you know. And it never does anyone any good."

I wiped at my eyes, tears falling freely now. I'd never cried in front of him before, but I couldn't help it this time. It was just too much to keep in.

"Don't start doin' that, okay?" He wrapped an arm around my shoulder. "That's why I like you. You're not like most people on our side."

I cried harder then. I wasn't sure what I was expecting, but a compliment wasn't it.

"Listen, that ain't to say I don't think you got a right to be upset," he said softly. "So don't you dare think that. Like I said, I'd be pretty screwed up too."

He wrapped his other arm around me and pulled me close. At first, I tensed up, he'd never hugged me before, but then I hugged him back just at tight.

I cried for a long time, and he patiently waited out the end of it.

I knew he was a good guy deep down, but it still shocked me that he was being this nice to me without the intention of getting in my pants. That was the only time I'd seen him be nice to girls with the exception of Angela sometimes. Tim was pretty cold about showing affection, but I'd seen Curly hug her once or twice.

"You okay?" he asked after a while.

I nodded, not wanting to make this any more emotional than it'd already become. It embarrassed me, falling apart like this, especially in front of him.

And as my luck would have it, the door swung open.

Dad took a couple steps in and his eyes grew wide. This couldn't be good…

I let go of Curly and sat up immediately.

"You got a boyfriend, Julia?" he asked, glaring directly at Curly.

"Hey, Mr. Randle," Curly greeted him. "She's just a friend, I assure you."

"Friend or not, you'll get the hell outa my house if you know what's good for you!"

He took a step towards him, and Curly stared him down.

"I said get the hell outa my house!" Dad repeated, and Curly got up reluctantly.

"I'll see you later, kid," he whispered to me, but Dad heard him and grabbed ahold of him.

"The hell you will." Dad hurled him towards the door.

"Is this really necessary, Sir?" Curly looked like he had half a mind to pick a fight with my father, but Dad was livid.

He clenched a fist, and by the look in his eyes, I could tell he was trying as hard as he could not to punch Curly. "Get the hell out. Now."

As soon as Curly was gone, he turned to me. "I never said you could have boys over, did I?"

I sighed. "Listen, Dad, it's not what it looks like… He ain't my boyfriend."

"Don't give me that crap," he said, the anger in his voice rising. "You were practically on top of him."

I grit my teeth. "He's just my friend, Dad!"

He pointed a finger at me. "Don't lie to me."

"I ain't lyin'!"

He narrowed his eyes and clenched his fists. "No boys over here, you got it?"

"Yeah, Dad, I got it, but honest, Curly's just a—"

He grabbed my shoulders and pushed me against the wall before I could finish my sentence. "Goddamnit, Julia, you think I'm stupid?" he demanded. "You can't pull this shit behind my back and expect to get away with it."

I bite down on my tongue. There were so many awful things I wanted to say to him right now, but if I said them, he was bound to explode.

"What the hell were you thinkin' hanging around a kid like him? I know who he is, and I don't like him…" I could hear the worry in his tone.

He let go of me, and I looked away; his breath reeked of cigar smoke and alcohol.

"Dad, please," I pleaded with him. "I ain't lyin' about—"

He cuffed me upside the head and crossed his arms. "I've heard enough of your bullshit. I got half a mind to tan your hide, so you better watch it, little girl."

"I'm fifteen, Dad!"

"I don't care," he said, and I knew he meant it. "You won't end up like your mother if I got anything to say about it… She had Steve when we were your age, ya know. You think that's a wonderful life?"

"No, I don't, but—"

He reached out and slapped me.

I put my hand to my face and fought the urge to start bawling. "You gonna kick me out too?" I hissed under my breath. "Go on. You kicked out Steve every goddamned week."

He slapped me again. The second hurt so bad, I nearly started sobbing from the pain alone.

But I didn't want him to see that, so I said what I knew would hurt him the most: "Fuck you, Charlie."


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns.

* * *

Steve had called Dad by his first name for years, but this was the first time I had done so. For Steve, it was purely to piss Dad off, to let the old man know all respect was lost because apparently all the other harsh things Steve said weren't enough, but me, I didn't know why I did. I just wanted to hurt him, but I could never be original about it. I always stole something Steve had already done.

There was a long silence between us, and when he finally spoke, his voice was laced with sadness. "You're getting worse than your brother ever was."

He took a step closer, and I stared back, trying as hard as I could not to shake. I wasn't afraid of him. "I've hardly done a damn thing," I said with conviction that only made him explode.

He grabbed my arm, digging his fingers tight into my skin. "I tell you what, you're gonna lose your attitude, or I'll take my belt off. You got it?"

I wanted to think he was joking, but the look on his face said he meant it. "Dad," I stated evenly and calmly. "Why don't you just go to bed and we'll talk about this tomorrow?" He was drunk, and although I'd purposefully pissed him off earlier, the rational side of me was kicking in now. I wasn't stupid. I knew he'd hit me again if I said the wrong thing.

"Dad," I tried once more.

"Goddamnit, Julia," he cut me off. "I've had it up to here with your bullshit!"

I gritted my teeth and tried not to snap, but it was too much. "Right back at you, and you're worse than me."

"Watch your mouth!"

Once again the silence between us was overwhelming, and if I had any sense, I'd leave, but instead, I wanted to throw one more jab at him. I'd witnessed Steve fight for the last word multiple times, and every time, one of them ended up with a black eye. That should've been my first clue, but I was too mad to let him have the final word now. "I'll learn to watch mine when you learn to watch yours…"

Before I could even think, he tossed me across the edge of the couch. "I'll teach you not to fuckin' talk back to me," he grumbled.

I tried to get up, but he only shoved me back down and struck me several times. Each time I bit down on my lip, refusing to cry, but much to my shock, he stopped just as soon as he'd started.

When I stood up, he'd thrown the belt on the floor and stared at it with the widest eyes. "I'm sorry," he said, so much weight behind it, I thought he might break down right in front of me. "Christ, you didn't deserve that."

"No shit I didn't deserve that." I didn't scream it at him, but I wasn't about to forgive him that easily, if I forgave him period.

"I'm sorry …" he said once more, but I'd already started walking away.

"Julia, please," he called after me. "I screwed up huge, honey. I know I did."

"Then how 'bout you leave me the hell alone before you make it worse?"

I grabbed my purse off the floor, slung it across my shoulder and stormed out the door.

He ran after me, but I just ran faster until he couldn't keep up and lost me.

xxxx

Once outside the tears I'd held in fell. I couldn't stop them, and it knocked the wind out of me faster. I knew I couldn't run much longer. Angela's was my original destination, but then I realized she might not even be home and picked the only other place I knew I'd be welcome at this hour—the Mathews'.

Rachel and I'd been close friends in junior high despite her constant feuds with Angela, and now she was some kind of a social, cheerleader wannabe, but at least she liked me and her mom would be nice enough to let me stay. She'd done the same for Steve countless times.

The second I hit their steps, I told myself to stop crying. I'd gotten good at controlling my tears, bawling when no one else was around and stopping on cue the second someone might see me.

A groggy Two-Bit answered the door. "Julia?" he asked, blinking a few times. "What're you doin' here?"

Unable to produce an answer, I looked toward my feet, and he must've taken my hint, since he grabbed my shoulder and pulled me inside. "It's a mess, I know, but you can sleep on the couch," he told me, pointing to it.

Of course everything was still a mess if he still lived there. I didn't know if he enjoyed living at home or simply didn't want to get a job, but either way it amazed me to think he'd stuck around so long.

"Little sis's at a sleepover if you were lookin' for her," he added.

"That's okay."

We both took our seats and sat in silence.

As far as I could gather, he was the only one home. I should've figured Beth Mathews would be working a late shift at one of her multiple jobs, but I was silently hoping she'd be here. I always thought Rachel was the luckiest girl in the world to have a mom like her. She was kind and funny and could kick your ass at the same time, and I admired that. I really did.

"I can't believe your old man kicked you out," Two-Bit's voice pulled me out of my thoughts. "I mean, Steve probably asked for it sometimes, but you … you ain't stubborn like him."

"You'd be surprised." It seemed easier to let him think I'd been kicked out than explain what really happened.

Somehow I fathomed getting kicked out might even hurt worse than getting hit, for him to push me away like he didn't give a damn about me. And it'd be worse now with Steve gone—one kid lost, so what's one more? But perhaps the reason he didn't kick me out was because of Steve. Thinking about it that way almost made me feel bad for leaving on my own accord, but I didn't feel too bad considering he was 100% in the wrong. In his own words he screwed up, and I wanted him to feel that pain for a while.

"Listen, kid, I know this ain't the best time, but you hear any word on Steve?"

Two-Bit looked sad and pensive, and though I rarely hung around him much, I hated to see him that way. I wanted so badly to tell him I had, so maybe I could believe it myself, but it'd only be a lie, a horrible lie.

A stray tear slid down my cheek as I shook my head. His expression grew sadder, and when he noticed I was staring at him, he got up abruptly. "I'll let you get some sleep. There's extra blankets in the hall closet if you need them." He walked away quickly, not offering a word more.

I didn't even have time to thank him.

I wrapped myself in the crocheted throw on the couch and shivered beneath it, but I didn't want to get up, so I just pulled it around me tighter and curled up on one end of the couch, resting my head against a stiff throw pillow.

As I closed my eyes, I took deep breaths and tried to calm myself, wishing Steve could be here, if at the very least to kick our dad's head in.

xxxx

_Friday, November 7th, 1969_

Almost a week passed since that night, and neither Dad nor I said a word about it. As far as I knew, we were both content to pretend it never happened, but I had to admit he was nicer to me. He asked me how my day was every day, and for the first time ever handed me a small sum of cash. Ten dollars. I wasn't sure how he got it, but I took it.

It still sat atop my dresser, and I wondered if I'd ever spend it.

School was nothing to speak of. By some act of God or simply attending class, I became a straight A student. Mrs. Benke took notice and suggested I be moved to advanced classes, but I turned the offer down immediately. Hanging out with cheerleaders and jocks all day didn't seem like my idea of fun. It was always the rich kids in those classes. The Soc/Greaser rivalry seemed to die down, so it wasn't that. I'd never been as judgmental as Steve was with the Soc-y types, but still I felt more comfortable on my own side. I wanted to be smart, but not too smart...

Angela's voice reminded me I was at work. I rubbed my forehead and tilted my head to the side to let her know I'd heard her.

"Will you take this table so I can take a small break?" she asked, a bit louder. Usually she asked this question when a better tipper was seated in my section, but today she was sick as dog, so I agreed and told her to take care of herself.

I approached the table slowly, noticing the man looked an awful lot like Steve from behind and cursed Angela for doing this to me. It had to be on purpose, but when I got there, it _was_ him, and he looked just as surprised to see me. "I didn't know you worked here."

"I didn't know you were home." This was too good to be true, like a dream or something.

"They sent a letter," he said, deadpan. "Didn't you get it? I got discharged."

I shook my head; tears slid down my cheeks from both the shock and relief. How he managed to sneak in here, unnoticed by me, without noticing me, was beyond me, but Angela must've known. I'll bet that's why she gave up the table.

"Why didn't you come home right away?" I asked.

"Kid, you have no idea how long it's been since I've had a damn cheeseburger..."

He got up, and I wrapped my arms around his waist, holding on to him tight.

Steve hugged back for a second and then shoved me away slightly. "You get your ears pierced?" he asked, sweeping my hair behind my ear to get a closer look.

"Angela did it a month after you left," I told him. "You like it?"

"Hate it."

"Why?"

"Just do."

He'd only been back for a minute, and we were already back to fighting.

I jabbed him with my elbow, and he smirked, pulling me back into a hug. "I missed you, kid."

"Julia, you're supposed to be waiting tables, not cohorting with the customers…" I heard my boss's voice behind me.

"She's my sister," Steve said gruffly. "I just got back, so let her have a moment, huh?"

"She can have plenty of moments after her shift."

"Then I'm sure she can find herself a better employer."

I raised an eyebrow at his tenacity, but he just tugged on my arm. "C'mon Julia."

"I'll lose my job."

"C'mon," he repeated. "You don't wanna work for this lousy guy." He shot my boss a glare.

It was ironic how comforting his stubbornness was, because at that moment, I didn't seem to give a shit if I lost my job over this.

I followed him out, my boss cussing behind me, but it was worth it.

Steve was finally home.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns.

* * *

Steve drug me to another diner so he could get that damn cheeseburger. As we walked there, I wondered what got him discharged and it was hard not to ask. Knowing him, he'd prefer I kept my trap shut until he was ready to talk to me.

We didn't say much to each other when got there. He ordered his food, and when it came, he stuffed his face in the burger and devoured it in a matter of minutes; you'd think it'd be the first meal he'd had in weeks, and for all I knew, it could've been, so I resisted the urge to tease him.

I ordered a coke and sipped it slowly, too jittery from the shock he was actually here to eat anything.

The fact he had an appetite was comforting. Too many people came back messed up, and deep down I knew there was no way he wasn't affected. Hell, in order to get discharged, something had to be wrong, but any sign of normalcy, even a little one, was good.

"How's the ol' man?" he asked through a mouthful of fries.

I shrugged and stared at my hands, pulling at the skin between my thumb and forefinger.

"Julia," he said when I didn't answer him.

I looked up and sighed. "You really wanna know?"

He tossed a french fry at me. "Do I ever ask somethin' I don't wanna know?"

It hit my shoulder and I brushed it away. "No."

"Well, there you have it then. How's that son of a gun?"

"I dunno. Himself, I guess."

"Yeah, I'll bet," he said, seeming to understand what I was getting at.

I almost told him about the big fight we'd had a week ago, but then I might risk him figuring out it was over Curly. He liked Curly, at least a heck of a lot better than he did Tim and Angela, but I wouldn't bank on that making him a-okay with us being friends.

Eventually he'd figure it out. Unless I blew off hanging around Curly, it was inevitable, but I'd put that off as long as possible.

xxxx

"Wow, she sure keeps this place clean," Steve said, as we walked into he and Evie's apartment. "And no sign of her … Great."

"Her mom's been real sick." After I spoke the words, I realized I could've been better to her while Steve was gone. I wanted to be, I tried to be, but it was hard to come here and not see my brother… And she'd become awful distant with me. It was damn near impossible to carry on a conversation with her, but still felt like I owed her more.

"One of you could've told me that in your letters." He sounded disappointed as he plopped down on the couch.

"Come here." He patted the cushion next to him.

When I stood still, he motioned for me with his finger. "Come here," he repeated with less patience.

I sighed and went to take a seat beside him.

"Talk to me about things," he said, and I knew it wasn't as much a request as an order. I'd forgotten how bossy he could be.

"What do you want me to say?"

"Everything," he replied, like it was obvious. "It's been a while. Surely there's a few things I oughta know. Evie's mom was one, and I'll be damned if they're ain't more…"

"Well, I got that job…"

"And?"

"And I dunno. This is pointless, Steve, I've been pretty boring..."

"You must be adopted then," he teased. "I mean, c'mon kid? Us? We may be a little screwed up in the head sure, but none of us is boring…"

"No really," I insisted. "I started going to class everyday and I'm a straight A student now. Boring, boring, boring."

"Straight A's?" He snorted. "Yeah, you've made the goddamned honor roll… Now tell me what you really been up to."

"Work. I paid rent a couple times 'cause Dad's a lazy son of a gun…"

I could see the small glimmer of dissatisfaction in his eyes and guessed he might rip Dad's head off for it later. "Alright, now we're getting somewhere… What else?"

I shrugged. "That's all."

He raised his eyebrows. "Really, kid?"

"Yes," I insisted. "How about you? Where were you?" I was probably asking too much. He was home, and that was all that mattered. "When you were missing I mean," I added cautiously, realizing I'd probably already crossed the line. The question was killing me though. When I'd spent the last few weeks reminding myself not to consider him dead, curiosity got the best of you.

I was damn happy to see him, but it didn't make sense. It seemed too could to be true, and I wanted to know what happened, so I could be sure he was home to stay.

He said nothing for several seconds, and when he finally did, he grumbled, damn close to yelling, "That's a conversation for another time." He stared straight in front of him as he said it, not bothering to turn his head towards me, and I knew if I pushed anymore, he'd lash out at me.

"Not now," he added. "Damn it, kid, not fucking _now_." By the look in his eyes, I could tell he was still thinking about it, and it scared me, made me feel like shit to even consider asking. It terrified me to think about what he'd been through when I couldn't get over seeing those people shot weeks later.

We sat in silence for a long time, and the quiet drove me crazy. It was all too much. Seeing him for the first time in months and realizing I had nothing to worry about anymore… it hit me, and it hit me hard. I planted my elbows on my knees and pressed my forehead into the palms of my hands.

I told myself I wouldn't start crying, I wasn't gonna be a crybaby again, but I couldn't help it; the tears were falling and they wouldn't stop. "I'm sorry." I didn't know what I was apologizing for. For breaking down? For daring to ask him something? For turning his homecoming into something about me? "I'm so sorry."

"Shut up," he barked at me.

I wiped the fallen tears off my cheeks and tried to compose myself. "But this ain't right… you just got home, and I'm …" I trailed off, my voice breaking. "I'm a mess."

He got closer to my face and I could practically feel the frustration radiating off him. "I said shut up, didn't I? You'll make yourself sick thinking like that, so shut it."

"But, Steve—"

He reached over and slapped my cheek, not as hard as he could have, but it still stung. "Enough," he growled, and I started crying harder.

He groaned out of aggravation, but then he ran a hand through his hair and held his arms out to me. I sighed and gave in, letting him pull me close.

He kept a firm grip around me with one hand and stroked my hair with the other, like it was supposed to be some sort of a nonverbal apology for getting short with me. It reminded me of when I was a lot younger and how he'd sit with me if it'd had a bad dream, scraped my knee, or was otherwise real upset. The aunt we lived with the longest had an awful temper and no patience for small children. Come to think of it, Steve wasn't exactly patient with me either, but he was more patient than he was with most people, and that said a lot. I trusted him more than anyone else, and right now I felt so safe, I choose to ignore the scars on his arms that'd worry the hell out of me later.

"Alright, think we can talk?" he asked after several minutes.

He nudged my arm when I didn't respond. "Julia…"

"We already did … kinda."

"Yeah, _kinda_ is right. You can be a hell of a lot more specific."

I shook my head, and he nodded firmly in return. "Yes, you can," he said with determination. "Now I got a feeling lots of shit happened, and I wanna know about it. All of it. Charlie'll be too much of a pussy to tell me, so you're gonna have to be an open book here."

I groaned and tried to get up, but he pulled me back. "I won't let you go until you spill it," he said, and damn it, he truly meant it.

"I dunno what to say, Steve," I blurted out. "I just … Christ, when I found out you were missing, I thought I'd lost you, so I'm sorry, but this is just a little much for me right now!" Tears rolled down my face and I wiped them away with my shirt sleeve.

He fell quiet for a while, but when he spoke again, his voice was much softer. "Well, you didn't, Jule. I'm right here."

"I know." I wiped at my face again.

"And I don't plan on dying," he went on, "so like it or not, you get to put up with me. Lucky you."

I smiled. He had no idea how lucky I truly felt.

It took me a while, but I eventually told him everything. Well, almost everything. Everything short of my friendship with Curly…

xxxx

After much coaxing I convinced him we should go see Dad. He insisted he wasn't ready for that yet and wanted to stick around in case Evie showed up, but I told him it wasn't fair; I'd seen how much Dad had deteriorated since he'd left, and as much as he pissed me off, he deserved to be put out of that misery too.

Steve argued with me for a long time though, and I finally won him over by telling him he could get his car back.

When we got home, Dad was staring at static on the TV, half empty beer bottle in his hand. He turned and his jaw tightened. "Steve?"

Steve gave him a nod.

Dad sighed and ran a hand over his face. The looks they exchanged said everything, that they both missed each other awfully but wouldn't admit it. Steve took a step forward and Dad met him the rest of the way, pulling him into a rough embrace. It'd been years since I'd seen them hug, and if I ever had any doubt they loved each other, I was proven wrong now.

Steve kept a cold demeanor, but there were tears streaming down Dad's cheeks. He tightened his grip around Steve's shoulders, and even after several moments, refused to let go. Steve shot me a glance that told me he was annoyed, and I couldn't help but smirk when he patted our father's back and tolerantly waited it out, like he did whenever I hugged him. "I missed you, Dad," he said, no doubt in his tone that he meant it.

Dad let go and patted Steve's arm. "God, I can't believe you're home…"

Steve gave a small grin. "Me too."

"Shit, they told us you was missin' and—"

"I got separated for a few days, but things are fine," Steve cut him off. "I got discharged."

Dad didn't bother asking why. Like me I guess he was too shocked he was home, but I knew something wasn't right. There was more to the story for sure, but for the time being, I'd be glad he was home and that he and Dad were getting along, even I knew they'd be back at each other's throats soon.

In a matter of an hour actually. At least it was nothing serious. Just a petty argument about whose football team would make it to the Superbowl, but they were bickering again, like Steve had never even left.

I tuned out the argument. Football was okay to watch, I guess, when I went to high school games, but watching it on TV got boring.

"… did Julia tell you about her little boyfriend?" Dad's voice made my head turn. What the hell was he talking about?

"No, she didn't," Steve said, giving me a look that was hard to read. I couldn't tell if he was amused, pissed off, or both.

"Yeah, I caught her hanging on to that Shepard kid," Dad said, lighting a cigarette. He took a long drag and exhaled the smoke in my direction. "Why don't you tell your brother about that little incident, huh?"

I rolled my eyes. "I'd rather not, thanks." The second the words left my lips, I realized I'd just created more intrigue about what I'd been doing. I sighed and rubbed my temples. "Dad flipped shit over nothin'," I explained to Steve. "It was just…"

"Nothin'?" Dad narrowed his eyes at me. "I didn't whip your butt for nothin', Julia."

Then why'd you apologize and run after me after you did it? I felt like asking. He was such a hypocrite, but I kept my mouth shut, certain I'd say something I'd regret if I opened it.

Dad turned to Steve. "It was that little shit who calls himself Curly."

"Curly Shepard?" Steve raised an eyebrow at me. "The hell you doin' with him?"

I glared back, too pissed to answer him.

"You bet," Dad said, shaking his head. "Maybe you can talk some sense into her. She always listened to you better than me, ya'know."

"Oh, believe me, I will," Steve said, staring directly at me.

I wished at that moment I'd have had the guts to say something earlier. It truly was no big deal, but Dad had just made it three times more complicated than it needed to be.

Steve got up and grabbed ahold of my arm. "Let's go for a walk, kid," he said.

Dad smiled smugly. I knew he'd done this on purpose.


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns.

* * *

"Steve, this is ridiculous…"

He was walking faster than me, and I nearly had to jog to keep up. When I slipped too far behind him, he stopped and grabbed ahold of my arm again, pulling me alongside him. "Walk faster."

"I can't help it. My legs are shorter than yours." I drug my feet on purpose to irritate him. "Where the hell are we going anyway?"

"Somewhere we can talk without Charlie's input," he said.

"So, lemme get this straight, you're using the information _he_ gave you against me, but you don't want him to say anything about it?"

He nodded. "That's pretty much it."

I tossed my hands in the air and fought the urge to slap him. "Ughh."

"Ughhh is right," he shot back. "I'm gone for how long, and you're dating Curly? Of all the guys, him?" He raised an eyebrow, and I looked away. _No_, I wasn't, and I was sick of trying to explain it to people… Not that I'd had to explain it to many, but the people I did just so happened to be a few of the most frustrating people I knew: Angela, my father, and now, Steve.

I reminded myself I was happy he was back, even if he was about to piss me off.

He tilted my chin back towards him to insure he had my attention and slowed his steps. "Hey, I'm talking to you."

"Steve, I ain't dating him." I looked him straight in the eye and spoke as rationally and calmly as I could. I needed him to believe me. "He's just my friend... Christ, I wouldn't even want to date him." It was true. He was a great friend, but I felt bad for any woman with enough patience to date him. I'd seen how he treated his girlfriends. He was a lot better than some of the guys on our side, but he still put the stuff he and his brother did over his girlfriends. They were forever destined to feel unimportant and underappreciated in comparison; it was purely a physical thing for him. He even admitted that to me. Sometimes I swore he was lying about all that just to sound tougher than he really was and that he might actually make a great boyfriend, but I wasn't about to trust him enough to try it out.

Steve was silent for a moment, and when he finally spoke, his voice was heavy with frustration. "I still don't like you hanging out with the Shepards," he said crossly. "Any of 'em."

Not this again... He'd given up on ripping me away from Angela years ago, but somehow I sensed we'd be bickering about this again. "People probably said that to their kids about you, you know. They probably said, 'Don't hang around the oldest Randle kid, he's bad news.'"

"No, people said that about Two-Bit." He chuckled. "Believe it or not, I was the most rational of my friends." The small smirk across his lips told me even he knew he was being facetious.

"Uh, that'd be Darry Curtis, oh wise one," I teased him anyway.

"C'mon, kid, can't this just be one of those things you trust me on?" His pinched his brow and sighed. "They're bound to get you in trouble…"

"So? They already have..." Being Angela Shepard's best friend certainly guaranteed that more times than I was willing to admit. By this point, Curly was no worse an influence.

"Which is why I hate Angela." He hammered his hand through the air as he spoke to emphasize his words. "And I ain't so sure I believe you about this Curly thing. Why him?"

I shrugged. "Same reason you hung out with him." Understanding why someone might like to hang around Curly wasn't rocket science. He was a friendly person. People liked him, they were drawn to him, and Steve was probably jealous of that on some level, same way he was jealous of Soda. He claimed he wasn't, but I knew he was. Soda always got the girls and all the lucky breaks, and Steve's pessimistic attitude made him ideal to only Evie. I loved my brother, but I definitely understood that he irritated people more often than not…

"Well, that's a shitty answer, Jule," he said. "Congratulations, you just gave me _one_ more reason to hate this. Maybe that's exactly why I don't like this. I know what he's like."

I groaned, but he rattled on. "You may just be friends now, but I know he's one of those guys who likes to keep casual friends around, if you know what I'm sayin'."

I stopped walking and shielded my face in my hands from the embrassment. "God, Steve… Don't even go there." I knew exactly what he was getting at, and he was wrong. If Curly wanted in my pants so bad, he'd have done it that night he had me all to himself at our house. He could've easily taken advantage of me then, but he didn't.

"Too bad, kid." Steve pulled my hands away from my face and held them at my sides, forcing me to look at him. "He's a guy, Julia. _I'm_ a guy. I know what guys think like, so you gotta trust me on this one."

I twisted my hands out of his grip and glared. "You're insane … and paranoid." He was dead wrong about this, but knowing him, he'd never admit that.

"Maybe," he said. "But that don't change the fact I'll beat the shit outa him if I see hanging a little too close to ya."

I sighed loudly and trudged forward. He followed me. "Your choice, I guess," he added. "You can keep hanging around him, but I will beat the tar outa him."

"That's awful, Steve." I crossed my arms and shook my head. "Sometimes I swear you go around lookin' for excuses to fight."

"Not this time," he insisted, but I ignored him.

We walked on in silence. Normally when we bickered like this I'd take off and insist on staying away from him; at least until he pulled his head out of his ass, but I missed him so much I couldn't do that. It was actually comforting to be fighting with him on some level. It was like he'd never left.

He eventually led me back home. "God, Steve," I started up with him the second we walked through the door. "That was so unfair…" I nudged him, so he'd know I'd done it on purpose to put on a scene for Dad.

"It's plenty fair, and you know it." He cuffed me upside the head lightly, got close to my ear and whispered, "You may think this a joke, but it ain't. I _will_ beat the tar outa him."

I had no doubt he meant it, but I was sick of arguing and kept my trap shut.

xxxx

When Dad handed Steve his car keys, you'd think he'd been reunited with his girlfriend. His car was a Chevy something or other. Couldn't tell you the year or much else about it, other than he kept it pristine and would kill me if I dared mess anything up. I didn't know much about cars, much to his dismay. He said he'd teach me how to drive though, and I'd hold him to it eventually.

He sat in the driver's seat for a long time. I opened the passenger door to make sure he was still alive in there and sat beside him. "See? We didn't mess anything up." I couldn't resist teasing him. It was too easy.

"I'll be the judge of that after I've driven it around for a while." He was completely serious when he said it too. "Night's still young. You can be my company."

He started the car and pulled out of the garage. He made me get out to shut the garage door, like he didn't trust me alone in his precious set of wheels. "The engine sounds good," he concluded. "Dad must not have driven it."

"I told you we left it alone."

"As damn well you should have."

I just shook my head at him. We drove in silence for a while, but I didn't mind that. Just being around him after the damn near eleven months it'd been was enough for me.

A few seconds later, I heard him say something about Dad and turned my head. "What?" I asked.

"You and Dad fight a lot when I was gone?" he repeated.

I gritted my teeth. We'd already talked about him and how I'd paid a few bills, and I wasn't itching to talk about him more. "Kinda… mainly just these last couple weeks."

"I honest to God did miss him," he said. "But he needs to get his shit together. It ain't okay to make you pay anything…"

"I volunteered to."

He shot me a quick glare and turned his eyes back to the road. "You shouldn't have."

"They could've taken me away," I said quietly. "I was already failing my classes and stuff… They'd think he was a lousy parent." It was that fear that made me such a boring person. I wasn't sure how true or rational it was, but I hated the thought of living in some girl's home. When you were an older teen, they usually just sent you there, especially if you were a poor kid. They'd sooner assume you'd cause a foster family trouble.

Steve sighed. "Everything just went to shit while I was gone, huh?"

"Kind of…" I stared out the window, dodging his glances.

"You know, sometimes I'd rather you just lived with me," he said, and it lifted my spirits entirely until he added, "Even if you'd be a giant pain in the ass."

I jumped when he patted my knee until I realized he was just trying to comfort me. "If he doesn't get his shit together, we'll make that work, okay?" He truly did mean it. I was stunned. I knew he cared about me an awful lot, but I'd never once thought he'd go that much out of his way.

I nodded. Even though I doubted he could legally do that, it was still a nice promise.

He flashed me a weak smile, and I tried not to look so gloomy. We'd already talked about Dad a little, so there was no need for me to be this upset, but I couldn't help it. It was like all the emotional stress was finally hitting me.

"I should probably go home soon…" I told Steve, eager to be alone where I could cry in peace if I needed to.

"You can stay at my place tonight," he said, and I almost argued, but when I truly thought about it, I liked the sounds of it.

xxxx

Evie still wasn't there when we walked in, and it had me worried her mother might've taken a turn for the worse. "I'll call the hospital tomorrow and see if she's there…" Steve said, taking a seat.

"Let me know what you find out," I told him, and I truly meant it. I liked Evie. If for no other reason than she was amazing for Steve. Don't get me wrong, I liked her for plenty other reasons, but she had this quiet authority with him that especially impressed me. If he said something she didn't agree with, she'd pull him aside in private, and once they emerged, his opinion would magically change, just like that. Nobody else I knew could do that with him. Just her.

"Gotta figure out this deal on Soda too." Steve's tone was laced with concern, even if his face didn't show it. "Heard he got out on injury, but his head's all psyched out."

"That's what I heard too," I told him. I didn't want to confirm the rumors he'd heard, but lying to him would be an even worse option.

He massaged his temples for a moment and looked up. "You look sad, kid," he said, catching me off-guard. I hated it when he did this, when he flipped the subject back to me just so he wouldn't have to talk about himself. "What's your problem now?"

I evaded his stares and looked to my feet. "Nothin'."

"Yeah, I'll bet it's nothin'," he scoffed. "You were gettin' weird on me in the car… Come here. I guess we can do this talkin' thing again."

I stood right where I was, and I knew it frustrated him because I heard him sigh. "Don't tell me you're gonna do that silent pout thing you do best," he grumbled. "I was hoping you might outgrow that by the time I got back."

I gave up, dragging my feet to him slowly, and plopped down beside him. "And I was hoping you might outgrow your mean streak."

"Never," he teased, tossing an arm around my shoulder. "Go on, the floor is yours. Not often I ask ya to complain, so have at 'er."

When I was silent, he pinched me.

"Ow, Steve," I hissed.

"Say something," he insisted.

"I dunno."

"You dunno," he mocked my tone. "C'mon now."

"I already told you everything."

"Then why are you moping around like it's the end of the world, huh?" he asked.

"I'm not…"

"Are too."

I rubbed my forehead and tried to think of something to say. I couldn't. Even though I didn't want to admit it, I knew I was being mopey. On some levels, I felt justified, but mostly I just felt pathetic and melodramatic. We'd already had our big talks, but there was still something wrong with me, because I couldn't seem to pull myself together.

I rested my head against his shoulder and swallowed back the tears before they fell. He wrapped his other arm around me, and the kind gesture pushed the tears forward even more, but I managed to hold them back. No crying. Not now. I'd cried plenty already, but I had to be honest with myself.

The reason I was upset was that I was worried. At the moment, I felt secure, but I had a feeling things were gonna get worse.

xxxx

_Saturday, November 8__th__, 1969_

I drug myself to work the next day, expecting to lose my job, but I was pleasantly surprised to learn I wouldn't. Apparently Angela had taken up for me, but the boss was still disgruntled. "You ever pull a stunt like that again, don't even bother coming in the next day," he threatened, standing too close to me for comfort. "And don't you be expecting a raise any time soon."

"Yes, sir," I agreed.

He stared at me for a long moment and rapped the seat of my skirt with a menu when he finally walked away. I groaned and trotted to my first table, an old lady I'd be lucky to get a nickel tip out of.

When it came time for my break, I couldn't have been happier. "How's Steve?" Angela asked me. It wasn't officially her break, but she always could get away with murder wherever we were. In school, at work… She had the world wrapped around her fingers, it seemed, and pretty much the only person who ever called her out on her bullshit was Tim. Sometimes I prayed he would. She always pitched a fit, but sometimes she needed to be knocked off her high horse.

I had to think about what she'd asked for a long time. How was Steve? I honestly didn't know. For just getting back, he seemed okay, but then again, he hadn't told me much about him. "I dunno," I replied. "Good, I guess." I only hoped it was true. I knew people didn't just come back with no issues. He'd been missing for Christ's sakes, but I tried not to think about it.

"I'm glad he's back for your sake." Angela smiled. "Christ, I know how much you missed him."

She handed me a cigarette and lit it for me. "By the way, I think you should put in your two weeks' notice."

I gave her a puzzled look. "Why?" I hated working here, but looking for a new job seemed like more trouble than it was worth.

"Do you honestly like it here?" she asked.

"Not really, but…"

"Then just do it. I'm gonna too."

I had a feeling there was more to this story, but for the time being, I wouldn't ask.

xxxx

On my way home, I ran into Curly. It was the first time I'd see him since that night with my dad, and suddenly things were awkward between us. But whether they were truly awkward or it was just my perception of it, I didn't know.

"Slow down." He put a hand on my shoulder and halted me to a stop. "I heard Steve's back?"

I nodded.

"Glad to hear that… Jesus, kid, you were starting to worry me."

I didn't know what to make of that, so I just stared at him.

"Say, I'm glad I ran into you," he continued. "Joey's bringin' his gal with him to the movies tonight, and I figured I'd look kind of stupid not bringin' somebody…"

"You want me to go?" I guessed.

"Yeah, if you're alright with that."

"Sure," I agreed, not having to think twice about it. A night out sounded amazing, and a movie was guaranteed to be less crazy than Buck's was. "I should warn you though," I added. "My brother's having a cow about us being friends."

He started laughing so hard I thought he might piss myself. "Yeah, that sounds like him. Don't worry about him. Randle's always fun with mess with…"

I smirked at him calling my brother Randle. Lots of guys did that, but I just knew him as Steve.

Part of me felt sorry for Curly, I had to admit. He may think it was amusing now, but he was underestimating just how irritated Steve'd be, but then again he might enjoy a good fight the same way my brother did.

I never understood it myself, but it apparently made perfect sense to them and the kind of guys they hung out with.

"So I'll see you at six-thirty?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'll head to your place though," I told him, deciding that'd definitely be for the best, knowing that neither my dad nor Steve would be okay with this.

Speaking of them, it was probably a stupid idea to go in the first place, but I didn't care. I wasn't turning an offer like this down.


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns.

Removing that top note... Sorry guys! I think the lag might've been the dang site's fault. Hopefully you got your update alerts! FF's been doing some funky shit lately.

* * *

I spent a lot of time in front of a mirror before six-thirty, applying, taking off and re-applying makeup. I fussed with my hair too. It was lost on me why I cared so much. This was Curly—nine times out of ten, I didn't bother with makeup around him, and considering he told me I looked like a clown a couple weeks ago, he probably could give two shits what I put on my face. I knew he wouldn't. This was _Curly_, the guy who'd once told me guys didn't notice a single effort girls put into their appearance; they only thing they noticed was cleavage.

God, he could be so crude. Maybe Steve was right about a few things, but if I listened to that, I'd never have any guy friends.

Splashing water on my face to wash the current attempt off, I contemplated giving up. It was _just _Curly, for Christ's sake. Still, this felt like something more official than us hanging out at Buck's, and I had to admit Steve's anger about him made me all the more willing to go. So, Steve might bash his head in, but it was a risk I was willing to take. Curly liked a good fight as much as Steve did—he'd probably enjoy it.

Neither of them would admit it, but threatening all their sister's guy friends was probably more about having an excuse to kick somebody's ass than anything else.

"You sure been doin' your make up a long time… big date tonight?"

I groaned, noticing Steve's reflection behind me in the mirror.

I turned around and crossed my arms across my chest. "You always gotta creep up on me?"

"You left the door wide open."

I sighed. Point well taken. "What're you doin' here anyways?" I asked him.

"Goddamned Charlie made me fix his piece of shit junker," he said with a sigh. "I swear that man knows less about engines than a girl…"

"Being female got nothin' to do it with it." I grumbled and picked up my brush to comb through the knotted mess of hair I'd made trying to style it. "I happen to know a few girls who know a thing or two about cars."

"Yeah, well, I never met one…"

"Sure you have. Angela Shepard."

He snorted at me.

"I ain't kiddin'." It was true. Maybe it was just because she'd dated somebody who was into them for a while, but she knew what she was doing.

He smirked; clearly still convinced I'd made this up. "I'll believe that when I see it."

I ignored him in favor of doing my hair. He was such an asshole; even when he wasn't trying to be one, he was.

"Yeah, well, I gotta split," he told me, taking a couple steps out the bathroom door. "Pony's goin' to see Soda, and I figured I'd tag along with him. Damn hospital's strict about you visiting folks if you ain't family…" He shook his head and kept walking.

"Hey, Steve," I called after him.

"What?"

"Let me know how he's doin' if you do get to see him, okay?"

He rolled his eyes and shoved his way out the front door. "Yeah, okay. See ya later."

"Bye," I called after him, but he was already gone.

The door slammed behind him, and I rushed back to bathroom to finish primping myself. Glory, I was becoming Angela or something…

When I got there, I stood in front of the mirror for a while. I picked up eyeliner but got distracted, wondering about Soda. It was stupid. Why should I care about my brother's friends this much? But the longer I thought about it, the more I realized there was a selfish reason.

I wasn't as worried about Soda himself; I was worried about what Soda's state would do to my brother. He and Steve were close, probably closer than Steve and I were close, and this was bound to cause a few Steve outbursts. He was such an angry person, damn it, more like our father than he'd ever realize, and thinking about that scared me. It was inevitable, but I wanted things to stay good for a while, like they were right now.

I sighed and inched closer to the mirror to apply the eyeliner, vowing not to think about it. Tonight I was gonna go out with Curly, and I was gonna have a great time.

After all, there was no such thing as not having a good time with Curly. He lived for excitement.

xxxx

When I got to Curly's, he jumped over the porch ledge to come greet me. "Let's book it." He tugged on my arm. "I'm sick of standing around this hell hole." He was obviously referring to his house, and from the screaming, I didn't blame him. His stepdad lived to scream at his mother, and his mother lived to scream at his stepdad.

It was relatively quiet for them now, but you could still hear tension; there always was tension. They were the loudest people I knew.

We met up with his friend Joey, and when I recognized who his girlfriend was, I threw up in my mouth a little. "Long time, no see, Julia," she said to me.

"Yeah, it's been a while alright…"

Candace Miller. Goddamned Candy... She was one of those girls I'd like to forget I ever knew, and when she dropped out, it was one of the greatest days of my life.

We got in Joey's car, and Curly and I were forced in the backseat. As we drove Candy nattered on about all sorts of things to Joey. I did my best to ignore it, but despite my best efforts, I couldn't help but be furious about this. She was about the last person I wanted to see tonight.

Curly nudged me and made faces as she talked.

I clapped a hand over my face and tried to keep from laughing. Glory, at least he hated her too…

She whipped around in her seat and glared Curly. "You makin' fun of me, Charles?"

"Nope." He smirked, and I could tell he was trying hard not to laugh too. "Hey, what movie are we goin' to anyways?" he asked, careful to change the subject.

I didn't know Joey that well, but from what Curly told me, the guy had a nasty temper, nasty enough Curly might earn himself a black eye if he made fun of Candy too much. It was a shame. Something told me Curly's dumbass jabs at her could end up being the most entertaining part of the evening.

"I dunno, some Paul Newman movie," Joey said.

"Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid," Candy corrected him. "Robert Redford's in it too."

"Yeah, you would know that…" Joey shook his head and turned back to me and Curly for a second. "She's got a massive crush on him."

Candy flipped around and jabbed my knee.

It hurt enough, I glared at her. "What?"

"Back me up on this one, Julia," she said. "He _is _dreamy, ain't he?"

"I guess so." I personally thought Paul Newman was better looking, but I didn't need to start a petty argument with her. She'd probably start plenty before the evening was over.

Candy rolled her eyes and sighed; Curly rolled his and sighed even louder.

"You _are_ making fun of me," Candy accused.

"Knock it off, man," Joey hissed at him.

Curly flipped him the bird, and that's when things got ugly fast. Not even ten minutes into our evening, the fun was over. Joey pulled the car over. "Get the hell out," he barked at Curly. "You too," he added, turning to me.

"Jesus H. Christ, I was joking," Curly said. "You don't gotta go ape on us!"

The look he gave Curly said he meant it. Curly slide towards the door and motioned for me. "C'mon Julia."

He helped me out of the car, and Joey and Candy sped off.

"Wow, some friend you got there," I teased him.

"Ever since he started dating that witch, I swear… I mean, he digs okay, but her?" He snorted. "See why I didn't wanna be alone with them?"

"Well, I've always hated her…" Ever since Junior High and then some.

"Don't let him fool you though." He chuckled slightly. "He can be a real pain in the ass too. You better believe he and Tim fought to the death a couple times."

"I don't doubt it." Anyone willing to date Candy had to be crazy themselves.

He nudged my arm. "Hey, let's go to movie anyway. I don't got a whole lota cash on me, but I know a loose spot under the fence where we can sneak in."

Sneaking into the movie? I should've known he'd make me do something illegal, but of all the illegal things, this was pretty mild. "Sure," I agreed.

Despite my initial hesitation, I felt a small wave of excitement about this, but when we got there, I changed my mind. Curly told me we had to move fast, but all I could think about was my skirt catching and ripping on the sharp metal wire.

"You'll be fine," he whispered impatiently. "Just stay close to the ground, and do it now for the love of God, or we'll get caught."

I whined a little, but did it anyway, and sure enough, an inch of the bottom hem ripped.

With a heavy sigh, I pulled myself up and brushed the dirt off my skirt. Curly yanked my arm, forcing me to run with him the rest of the way. We were in.

Once safe from anybody's suspicion, he started laughing and pointed to my skirt with an ear to ear grin. "Nice hole there."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" At least it was towards the side and didn't reveal anything embarrassing, but it was still tempting to punch him.

"Boy, this must've been the first time you've snuck into goddamned anything," he said, quiet enough only I could hear him.

I elbowed his side, but it only amused him more.

xxxx

As it turns out he didn't have any change on him, so I ended up buying our popcorns and cokes with the small sum of tip money I had in my purse from this afternoon. He promised to pay me back later, but I wouldn't count on it.

We sat in small rows of seats for those who came without cars. The movie was hard to hear over all the overexcited teenagers, but it didn't matter much; it was nice to be here away from everything.

When Curly finished his popcorn, he started stealing kernels of mine, but only when he was certain I wasn't looking. "Hey, hands off," I teased him.

He grinned even wider. "That sounds dirty."

I tried not to laugh, but it was funnier than I wanted it to be and couldn't help myself. "God, you're crude!"

"I know," he said, and I smacked his arm in annoyance.

We fell quiet for a few moments then. Whether from the awkward moment or something else, I didn't know. I tried to focus on the movie, but up until this point, I hadn't been paying attention and had no clue what was going on. I sighed and jumped a little when he slung an arm around me.

That sure caught me by surprise.

What the hell was that supposed to mean? Was he just being nice? Did he really like me?

Wondering about it was bound to drive me crazy later, but for the time being, I'd enjoyed it.

It was different, but maybe a good kind of different.

Unfortunately it didn't last long. Not even a minute later, we were approached by an angry employee. I glanced at Curly anxiously, wondering how he could possibly appear calm right now. We'd snuck in for Christ's sakes, but then I remembered this was Curly. Doing illegal things was not lost on him.

I turned back to the employee who was glaring at us both now. "Can we see your ticket stubs?"

I shifted my eyes back to Curly, hoping to God he had a plan.

* * *

Thanks for reading and reviewing as always!


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns.

* * *

Not only was Curly calm; he had a small smirk across his lips that I wanted to slap him for. There was nothing funny about what just happened. After a split second, it was obvious, he wasn't going to do anything, so I started rummaging through my purse to give the illusion I had the ticket stubs in there somewhere.

"I know they're in here," I muttered to myself. If we were gonna get away with this, I had to make my acting damn believable.

Curly sighed and looked up at the employee. "Honest, I saw her do it," he lied. Thank you, Curly, for _finally_ saying something helpful…

"Shoot, they must've fallen out." I glanced up at the man with big eyes, praying he'd believe me, but I swear I'm some kind of a bad luck charm when people wanna do bad things. They never get caught without me, and the one time they do get caught is always with me. It ain't fair. Does my head have a flashing light over it every time I do something wrong? Am I really that bad of a liar?

"Ma'am, a coworker of mine says he saw you sneakin' in with him." He didn't blink once as he spoke, and I knew this wasn't good. "If you can't show me tickets—"

"Sir, we ain't the kind of people to cheat like that," Curly cut in, giving the man a look to rival Steve's when he's pissed off. "I don't appreciate you picking on us for no good reason. Now I'd love to have a little chat with your boss if that's alright by you."

I held my breath, silently willing Curly to shut up. The knot in my gut told me this wasn't gonna go over well for him—or me for that matter—but Curly didn't seem to care. He just kept on glaring.

I expected the man to inform us he _was_ the manager, owner, or boss. With my luck, it wouldn't be surprising, but instead he nodded and said, "Alright, I'll go get him."

Panic set in for Curly. "We gotta leave," he told me. "The owner hates me."

I elbowed him. "Then why the hell'd you ask to talk to him?"

"'Cause I didn't think he'd actually go get him." He shuffled to his feet, grabbed my arm and yanked me up to run alongside him. "Hurry up."

I followed him; despite all irritation. "You're an idiot," I told him, as we ran.

"Yeah, yeah, I've heard that before… Run faster."

I huffed and kept mouth shut; if I talked, I'd be too out of breath to keep up with him, so I opted to get back at him for this later, and I would too.

"Hold it right there."

I stopped when I heard a voice behind us, but Curly kept running. Shit, that stupid of me. _Shit, shit, shit._ I dunno what fell over me, but my feet halted, like it was ingrained in me to listen to a voice of authority. I hated that.

Glory, I felt even dumber than Curly just standing here. It all happened so fast, and Curly was nearly in the clear now... I gave in to my fate and turned to see who it was; just as I suspected, the owner. He pushed past me and tried to chase after Curly, but Curly was too quick.

I took an opportunity that split second to book it myself, but the owner caught up to me. "Not so fast."

I gave up and walked the three feet to him slowly.

"Come with me." He motioned for me with his hand, and I followed him to his office, trying to keep from shaking. I didn't think he'd call the fuzz for something this little, but I wasn't sure, and that uncertainty ate at me.

When we got there, he sat down behind his desk and pointed for me to sit in one of the chairs in front of him. "Now tell me, what was a nice little girl like you doin' with a boy like him?" he asked, his hands folded neatly. He was an older gentleman, looked old enough to be my grandfather, but at least he seemed kind, even if that was a personal question.

I shrugged. I honestly didn't know why I hung out with Curly. Most of the time I could say he was a good friend, but at the moment, I was irritated. I'd probably be over it soon enough and go back to pondering what it meant when he put his arm around me, but regardless of what I thought of Curly, I wasn't about to spill it to a complete stranger.

"I've seen the likes of them Shepard boys a lot." I could hear the frustration behind his tone, which was hardly surprising. Everyone I knew seemed to have a story about one of them, and it usually wasn't good. "And you better believe I'll have them arrested when I get the chance, but I've never seen you try to do something like this before. Why, you look mighty young to be hangin' around them boys."

I'd been told I looked young for my age before. It used to irritate me, but I was used to it now, and I should be because it probably wouldn't change until was in my twenties. At least I didn't look under thirteen anymore. At least I didn't think I did…

I looked up at him nervously, unsure if he wanted me to say something.

"Relax, Miss, I'm not the kind of man to call the authorities the first time a dimwit kid tries to rip me off." He unfolded his hands so he could gesture as he talked. For someone I should be afraid of, he was at least amusing, so much so I thought I might like him if I weren't in trouble. "If I did that, I'd be calling the cops every night, and that just seems a little silly, don't it?"

I nodded in agreement, and he chuckled to himself, his handlebar mustache bouncing up and down as he did. "Most kids look just like you when I catch 'em. Scared shitless."

"Yes, sir." I wasn't sure what to say, but figured that at least sounded polite.

"Now here's what I figure we can do in your case: you pay me what you owe me, and then you call your parents to come get you. They can straighten you out, and we'll just forget this ever happened. Sound fair, miss?"

I nodded. That sounded _awful_ actually, but at least I wouldn't be in any legal trouble.

I propped my purse in my lap and pulled out enough change for my ticket and Curly's, but he pushed half of it back to me. "Just pay yours," he told me. "Rest assured I'll make that boy pay for everything he's done on my property one of these days." He said it with so much intensity, I believed he might, and I might be slightly amused by it too. Curly deserved it.

"Go on, make your call," he said, handing me the phone. I pressed it to my ear and reached across the table to dial the number, praying Dad was in a good mood, or at the very least home, so I wouldn't end up stuck here.

I waited three rings, but it felt like it'd been twenty.

"Hello?"

"Dad," I began slowly. "I need to come get me… I'm at the drive in."

"Julia?" Steve's voice… _Shit._ I wondered for a moment if I'd dialed the wrong number in my nervousness, but it was too late now. Maybe it was better I had him on the line and not Dad.

"Yeah, it's me," I told him.

"Why the _hell_ did you just call me Dad?"

"Sorry, I, uh … Forget it, can you just come get me?"

He fell quiet for a moment, which meant he had to think about it, which only made me more anxious

"I guess so," he grumbled eventually. "What'd you do anyway?"

"Nothin'."

"Doubt it."

"Okay, fine, I snuck into a movie…"

Silence, and though I couldn't be sure, I thought I heard him laugh. "Alright, I'll be there in a few," he told me in an even tone. I couldn't tell if he was pissed, upset, amused, or all three, and it drove me crazy.

"Okay." I hung up and sighed.

"Your daddy comin' to get ya?" the owner asked.

Steve was coming, not my dad, but I didn't feel like trying to explain that, so I just nodded.

"Alrighty, miss. I'll have you wait for him out front with one of my employees then." I followed him out of the office and he flagged down a girl in uniform. "Another one tried to sneak in," he told her, like this happened nightly. "Her father's comin' to get her, so if you could wait and make sure she doesn't take off before then? You know the drill."

The girl nodded.

He thanked her and rushed off to chat to his loyal customers. I sighed and trailed behind her as we walked to the entrance, thinking about how much worse that could've been, but I was still pissed at Curly. Next time I saw him, I'd bawl him out good. He'll probably laugh at me, but I'd make damn sure he knew I wasn't okay with this.

As I waited on Steve, I debated talking to the employee beside me, but I didn't recognize her and she seemed shy, so I just stood there awkwardly, praying Steve would be in a good mood.

When he finally came, I walked up to the car and helped myself into it, anxious to get out of there as soon as possible. We sped off in silence, and after a few moments, it became clear he wasn't going to say anything until I did, so I went ahead and asked him something to get the subject off me as fast as I could. I was curious about it anyways. "How was Soda?"

He glared at me. "That ain't your business."

"But you said you'd tell me—"

"He's my friend, he ain't yours, so I can change my damned mind if I want to."

At that moment I felt bad for asking. I should've known it'd be a bad idea to ask him anything like that, but curiosity got the best of me sometimes, and now I was even more anxious. If he was reacting like this, something had gone wrong there. "Sorry, Steve, I—"

"Forget it, Julia," he cut me off. "And if I were you, I'd quit asking me questions. You always gotta do that, huh?"

I knew I did sometimes, but I still felt the need to defend myself. "No, I don't," I said, but those were the only words I could get in.

"Like hell you don't." His voice was rising fast. I hugged my arms around myself and mentally prepared for the backlash I knew would come. "You _always _ask me the dumbest goddamned questions and whine like hell if I don't feel like tellin' you."

I shook my head, but it just set him off worse. "And god forbid I yell at you, you start cryin'. Every time. Every fucking time. You gonna cry now too?"

"No." I felt like it, and if he kept on like this, it'd be inevitable, but damn it, I was determined to prove him wrong now. I bit down on my lip to keep myself together.

"What makes you think you got the right to ask me somethin' like that when you're the one in trouble right now?"

I ignored him and stared towards my feet.

"I didn't have to come get you, you know" he kept on. "And I could chew your ass out good for bein' stupid enough to think you of all people could sneak into a movie if I wanted. Whose idea was that anyway? Curly's? Jesus Christ, if it was him, I'll—"

"It was Angela's," I threw in, before he could get on another rampage about Curly.

"You lyin' to me?" His eyes were accusing.

"No," I said, almost inaudible

"You lie to me, Julia, and it'll be the sorriest day of your life."

That was it. That was the last straw for me. "Well, I guess I've had a lot of sorry days then," I shot back, giving into the wall of anger. I always asked questions, well, he always did this, and he yelled at me more than I asked him questions guaranteed. It wasn't fair.

"What the hell are you on about?" he hissed.

"You think I tell you the truth all the time?" I kept on. "Why would I when you freak out like this?"

There was so much fire in his eyes then, I inched closer to the passenger door.

He reached over and smacked the side my arm hard. "You shut your mouth," he growled.

I gasped, and though it itched in my lips to tell him off, I was too afraid to. The way he glared told me he'd get even meaner if provoked him more. Staring at the car floor, I rubbed the sting out of my arm and tried to comfort myself in that he hadn't slapped me across the face, but it didn't help the tears from forming in my eyes.

I gritted my teeth and pushed them back in me as we drove on in silence.

I propped my elbow against the edge of the window and hid my face in my hand. Steve sighed loudly, like my small action alone had pissed him off, but he said nothing.

When I felt the car come to a stop, I didn't want to irritate him anymore, so I stayed where I was, waiting on him to tell me to get out.

I felt a hand on my shoulder and slowed looked over to him. "You know, you should've asked me for some tips on how not to get caught," he said, a small smile behind his lips. "I'm kinda an expert."

_So was Curly_, I thought, but I didn't say it aloud.

"C'mon, let's go." He tugged on my arm, and I opened the passenger door to get out.

When I stepped out, I realized we weren't at home or his place; we were parked in visitor parking at the hospital.


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns.

I almost held off on posting this one... The review drops on 9 and 10 took a bit of a toll on my confidence levels, but I'm doing my best to tell myself you were all just busy. It's not me. It's not that the quality of the writing has dropped. Those are all just my brain being paranoid!

So here we go on chapter 11! Longer one. Rejoice!

* * *

Several possibilities for why we were here rushed through my head; was it Evie's mom? Soda? Considering how short Steve's temper was, those two made the most sense.

I followed him a few steps and stopped. "Steve?"

He turned from where he was, a few feet away from me, and gave me a pointed look. "What?"

"What's goin' on?"

He lit a cigarette hastily and took a drag. "Dad's here."

I shook my head, not wanting to believe it. "What? Why?"

He walked back to me and sighed. "I dunno, Jule. Heart attack or somethin'."

"What do mean a heart attack? _When_ did this happen?" I demanded, not meaning to sound as harsh as it came out.

"After I saw Soda," he grunted. "I came home, planned on yellin' at him for lettin' his car go to shit, and guess what? I found him passed out in the kitchen." His voice got quiet. "I dunno what the hell he did to himself, but I took him here."

My eyes grew wide; my first instinct was to call him a liar, but why would he lie about something like this? "What?"

He scowled. "What do you mean what? That's what happened!"

I frowned at him and thought through what he'd said more. If he took Dad here and if he was home when I'd called him, it could only mean one thing: he'd left our father here on his own, and that bothered me. If Dad was having a heart attack, he shouldn't just leave him. "But how come you were home when I called you?" I asked, unable to stay calm. The anger was escaping.

He shoved his hair back. "Oh for God sakes, Jule, does it really matter?"

"Yes!" I yelled back. Of course, it mattered. You don't leave people alone when they're sick like that, _you don't_. He's our father. I didn't care how much Steve hated him. You don't do that. _Ever._ "Christ, Steve, you just left him here? _By himself_? What if he's dyin' in there?" My breath hitched thinking about it, and it was beyond me why he couldn't have bothered explaining this to me in the car instead of waiting until we got here. But no, he fought with me, yelled at me, even slapped me, and all the while, Dad was here.

Steve dropped the cigarette on the ground and stomped it out with his foot, ignoring me.

"How _could_ you?" I pushed further.

He lunged forward and grabbed my shoulder, shaking me slightly. "I ain't in the mood to argue about this, all right? So cut it out." He let go, but kept glaring at me with so much anger in his eyes. "Let's go." He started walking, and I followed him, still seething, unable to get over it. It was wrong. He had to know it was wrong too.

As we'd just about reached the doors, he turned, and when he saw my face, he scowled. "You gonna pout about this?"

I lost it then. He was asking for it, making jabs at me like that. "Jesus Christ, Steve!"

"Well, are you?"

I clenched my teeth. "I just found out about this. I can pout and be upset if I want to!"

His shoulders tensed up, and I swore I saw his jaw twitch, but I wasn't done, hadn't said my peace yet. "And for all I know, you wouldn't have told me if I hadn't called." I paused for a brief second to let my words sink. I _wanted_ him to know I was mad. "You and Dad just love to leave me out of the loop on everything. I swear, I've had it up—"

He clapped a hand over my mouth. "Don't make a scene," he said harshly. "Once we go in there, you'll get us kicked out for doin' somethin' like that, you get me?"

He released me and I gasped for a breath. "And before you lose your shit again," he went on, "did you pause to think that maybe the reason I left was to find you?"

"You didn't sound like you were trying to find me on the phone," I said, having to focus to keep from shouting. "And then you just screamed at me. Why didn't you tell me right away? If Dad's sick, you don't keep that from me!"

"You asked about Soda, and you should've known that's a stupid question."

"No, it wasn't." I shook my head. "You're just oversensitive about it."

I should've expected backlash for that, but I didn't expect him to slap me again, this time across my cheek. Not as hard as he'd hit my arm, but hard enough to sting. "Steve!" My hand went up to my face in recoil.

"Shut it," he hissed. "I'm done talking about this and you damn well should be too. Let's _go_."

My first instinct was to slap him back, but the longer I stared at him, I saw more than just anger in his face. He was worried, it was so obvious, and suddenly I felt awful. I knew my brother well enough to know he lashes out when he's concerned about something, but somehow I failed to realize that until just now.

"Jule, let's go," he repeated calmer now, as though he was trying to apologize for his actions without actually saying "I'm sorry."

I walked up to him and hugged him.

"What the…" He stood stiff as board, refusing to hug me back. "Really, kid? You been nothin' but a whiney, little brat to me, and now you wanna hug me?"

I hadn't been a whiney, little brat, but I was too exhausted to argue. I hugged tighter, and he finally returned the gesture by patting my back once and prying me off him. "Can we go in now?" There was a strong hint of annoyance in his tone, but I ignored it and nodded.

"About goddamned time," he grumbled.

xxxx

Steve had to argue with the hospital staff to get let in past visiting hours. They said they didn't let children in past visiting hours, only spouses, but considering he had no wife, they eventually made an exception. And Steve argued with them until they were willing to give Evie an exception too.

One of the nurses hated Steve. She told him if our father wasn't such a nice guy, she'd have had us kicked out. I almost started laughing then, not because it was funny Steve pissed somebody off, that happened all the time, but I'd never heard somebody describe my father as a nice guy before. I guess he was a model patient though. He didn't complain about anything.

I sat near the window in the small, small room where Dad was. Not only was he not complaining, he wasn't talking either; whether because he couldn't or he simply didn't want to we weren't sure.

The doctor came in later and explained to Steve they were sure he had a heart attack and wanted to keep him here for a few days to run blood tests and x-rays and see what else they could find. Steve politely thanked him, but went straight back to being irritated at everyone, including our father.

After an hour of putting up with it, I couldn't take it anymore and pulled him aside in the hallway. "Steve, would it kill you to put aside your differences and be nice to him?"

"You didn't see him," he argued back. "He looked like he'd overdosed for Christ's sake, and I think that's what he did. That's _exactly _what he did, and these doctors'll figure it out soon as they see his blood. He did this to himself, damn it, and for the last time, I _am_ bein' nice..."

Steve's idea of nice was other people's idea of mean. If he thought by swearing less and not throwing punches, he was being nice, he was sorely mistaken. He was still making sarcastic remarks and arguing with everybody. "Just be kind to him, all right?" I tried again. "Regardless of what he did, he could've died!"

"And that's supposed to make me forgive him? That just makes me more pissed. How stupid could he be?"

I sighed. This was impossible. "I don't mean forgive him. Hell, I'm pissed too."

"Don't seem like it."

"That's 'cause I'm tryin' not to stress him out more," I insisted. "If you knew anything about a heart attack, you'd try not to stress him out too…"

Steve said nothing; he just glared at me for a second and walked back into the room.

Instead of going after him, I looked for somewhere else to be to get a break from him and his pessimistic attitude.

I found a spot in a dark waiting room. I didn't flip the lights on because I probably wasn't supposed to be here in the first place, but there was an empty bench to sit on. At least the shades were drawn open and the moonlight provided enough brightness to see where you were going.

I heard footsteps and looked up, expecting to see a nurse or a janitor ready to kick me out, but instead it was Evie. "Evie? What're you doin' here?"

"I was wondering where you went." She took a seat beside me and crossed her legs. "What's up?"

I thought about playing dumb, but I knew she was asking why I left and decided to just tell her. "I couldn't stand Steve anymore."

She smirked. "If you think he's an annoying brother, try dating him."

"Ew, no way… Even if we weren't related, I don't know how I'd tolerate that."

She seemed amused by my response, but smiled and said, "He can be sweet sometimes."

"Maybe sometimes, but most of the time he's kind of an asshole. Especially tonight."

She nodded in agreement and we fell silent for a while. She was right. He was alright sometimes, maybe even most of the time, but one thing was for sure: he was one of the most irritating people to be around when his temper flared.

"He's just worried." Evie sighed. "About your dad, and well, himself too. Those fainting spells that got him discharged have him scared. Gosh, I feel awful for you. You must be worried about both of them."

My eyes grew wide. Steve hadn't said anything about that.

"Shit, I should've known." She shook her head and put a hand on my knee. "He didn't tell you a damn thing about that, did he?"

"Nope." It was hardly surprising, but sill stung.

"And I think that's just rotten awful of him," she went on. "He can't keep you in the dark about those kind of things."

"He sure thinks he can." And it probably wouldn't matter what she said to him about it either, but at least I knew I could get honest information from her, which is why I couldn't help but ask about Soda. "He say anything about Soda to you? He flipped his lid when I asked about it today…"

She shook her head. "Sorry, hon. Not a word. I'm guessing not good by the way he's acting about it."

I figured not good too. We both knew Soda was shot in his back and that it left him next to paralyzed, but Darry Curtis was a closed book about his family's problems. Anything we'd heard was strictly rumors.

"Hey, Evie, how's your mom?" I asked. For a split second, I thought I might be asking too much, but her reply assured me I was in the clear.

"Oh, she'll be alright," she said, waving a hand. "Mad as hell the doctor said she can't drive no more, but she'll get over it. She got to go home today, you know."

I wasn't sure what to say to that. It'd been so long since I'd talked to Evie—I mean, _really_ talked to Evie like we were now—and it felt awkward. "Good," I finally said.

"Good for her, yeah, but who do you think she'll make drive her cranky ass around town?" She elbowed me and winked. For someone who'd nearly just lost her mother, she kept a good attitude about things. The only time she didn't was when she thought Steve was dead. I'd never seen her so distraught and felt awful I didn't visit her more while he was gone.

She liked me, unlike the other girl he'd tried to date. She didn't last long. I don't remember much about her except that her name was Nancy, and she and Steve fought the entire three weeks they were together, but I knew I liked Evie the first time I met her. I remember that she didn't treat me like I was some stupid little kid. She thought I was cute, and Steve hated that. He hated that I tried to spend time with his girlfriend, and looking back on it, I could definitely see how I was annoying, but I appreciated that she was kind to me.

Steve flipped on the light in the waiting room. "Alright, ladies, we're pushin' our luck bein' her. The fat nurse looks like she wants to kill me."

"And whose fault is that?" Evie asked him with a pointed look.

He ignored her and flipped the light off. "Let's go."

I rolled my eyes and Evie smirked as if to agree with me.

We followed Steve out in silence, and no one hardly said a word to each other the entire drive to their apartment.

xxxx

I settled myself on their crappy couch and did my best to pretend I couldn't hear them arguing, but from what I could hear, I agreed with every word Evie said. Something told me he'd be more pleasant to deal with tomorrow, and once again, she'd deserve a medal for her efforts.

"Julia."

I sat up in shock when I heard Steve's voice. I thought for sure I'd drift off to the sounds of them bickering, but he was standing in front of me now with a look I couldn't read. Guilt? Embarrassment perhaps? Whatever it was made me want to grin smugly. I wouldn't get an apology, that was for damn sure, and if he ever dared mutter the words "You were right," the world would stop spinning.

But when he sat down and sighed, I knew I was getting a "Steve" apology, meaning he might say one thing he did wrong and twenty things I did.

He held up my elbow and pointed to my arm. "That was me, huh?" he asked.

"No shit." I couldn't help but get slightly short.

"Does it hurt?" He sounded genuinely concerned, if not a little disgusted with himself.

"Only if I bump it," I answered honestly.

"Still, you must think I'm a pretty mean brother, huh?"

I shrugged. "No more than usual."

He pulled me into hug and held me there for a couple seconds. Not expecting it, I wasn't sure what to say or do. "I ain't mad about it," I told him. It seemed like something he might want to hear. "Not anymore at least, and you've probably done worse to hundreds of people."

"Yeah, but you're a girl." He let go of me and sighed. "And my sister," he added. "I guess that's supposed to count for something."

"If it makes you feel better, it's far from the worst bruise anyone's ever given me." It was true. Angela held that record, and it wasn't on purpose. She tossed a baseball at me, thinking I'd catch it, but instead it hit my cheek. That bruise lasted weeks.

"I still feel like an ass," he said.

I felt like telling him he was, but instead held my tongue. For a "Steve" apology, that might've been closer to a real one.

xxxx

_Sunday, November 9th, 1969_

I woke up late and vaguely remembered I had a shift today. I ran the fifteen minute jaunt to work, and didn't realize I was without my uniform until I arrived. _Shit_, I was at least forty-five minutes late, and no uniform?

I endured the stares of my co-workers and pushed my way to the back room where we clocked in and placed our personal belongings while we worked. Sometimes there was an extra uniform there. I said a silent prayer there was, but all I found was a pissed off Angela.

She was scrounging up her things and cursing up a storm.

"Angel?"

"I'm _done_," she said, slinging her purse across her shoulder. "Fuck giving a two weeks notice. This is the last time they'll ever see me."

"What happened?" I asked calmly.

She just threw her hands in the air and gave me an exasperated groan. "I fuckin' hate that bastard."

"Roger?" I guessed. Our boss was known for being in a bad mood, but I'd never seen Angela this outraged at work before.

She shook her head at me, and I couldn't tell if that was supposed to be a no to my question or disappointment that I had to ask.

"Angel?" I pressed again, but she swung the back entrance open and slammed the door behind her.

I went after her, maybe I'd lose my job over it, but I knew deep down whatever it was was worth it.

* * *

Three chapters left after this and then we do the time warp again. As in, back to where Landslide left off. Everyone okay with that? Any major objections? I'll explain more when we reach the last chapter.

Revieeeeew. I welcome everything. Guest reviews, signed reviews, single word reviews, the ever popular "update soon". In the end all I really need to know to stay motivated is that you're reading and still liking the story. :) Thanks everyone! You've been so supportive over the longhaul. I love it so much.


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns.

Warning: Sensitive content.

Sorry to anyone who happened to click while I had the wrong doc uploaded! I fixed a typo and switched out the wrong doc... Haha. Here's the correct chapter:

* * *

When I caught up to Angela, she was bawling, honest to God, bawling. I hadn't seen her this upset in years. When we were kids, she used her tears to manipulate people, but she'd toughened up as she got older; like a lot of people I knew she preferred lashing out to breaking down.

"Angel?" I took a step close to her. She'd found a park bench to sit on, and had her elbows propped on her knees and her face buried in her hands. She shock slightly, trying as hard as she possibly could to suck the tears back inside her, but she was failing.

I sat down beside her and put my hand on her shoulder to comfort her as best I could. I didn't know what to say, and if she was this upset, there was a good chance she'd scream at me and bolt off if I said the wrong thing. It was best to just let her dictate the talking.

After a few minutes, she pulled her face out of her hands and turned to me. "I should've listened to Tim, damn it," she said. "He tried to tell me…" She shook her head and locked her eyes on the concrete sidewalk. Her crying had slowed, but her eyes were still wet and red.

"What'd he try to tell you?" I asked.

"That night he found me at Buck's …" She sighed. "He tried to tell me to quit my job 'cause he'd heard things about Roger, but I thought he was just on about nothin' like he usually is…"

I curled my lip under my teeth. Roger was a creep, and we both knew that, but I didn't like where this was going. "Shit, Angel…"

"He was right," she grumbled. "Tim was fucking right…"

I didn't dare ask what he was right about. She'd tell me that when she was ready; maybe in the next minute, maybe not for a couple days, but one thing was for sure, I wasn't setting foot in that diner again.

"Roger set me up with some friend of his," she explained, twirling her hair around her finger and avoiding eye contact with me. "Said he was willing to pay a lot for a few favors, and I know it's wrong, I do. I'm a married woman, for Christ's sakes, but James ain't bringin' in anything… what choice did I have?"

My eyes grew wide, and I fought the urge to say something disapproving of what she did. She didn't need to hear that right now, but I was speechless. I hadn't expected her to open up so soon for one, but this ... this was awful.

"I got a lot of money for that." She swallowed and wiped a tear off her cheek. "But then that son of bitch Roger wanted two thirds of it…"

I raised an eyebrow. "You didn't give him any money though, did you?"

"I did," she said, choking on a sob. "He said he'd turn me in for prostitution and fire me if I didn't, so I give it all to him in exchange for lettin' me quit… That was supposed to be rent this month. That bastard. That fuckin' bastard."

I didn't know what to say to that, so I just hugged her. I should've known something like this would happen to her eventually, but it didn't take the sting out of hearing it. Maybe she put herself out there too much, but she didn't deserve this.

She hugged me back just as tight for a few moments and then pulled away. "Promise me you're done workin' there too," she said. "I'm serious, don't even bother quitting, just don't go there anymore."

"I promise," I assured her.

After this, there was nothing anybody could say to convince me to go back. I just wished I'd have been wise enough to pick up on the warning signs sooner. Her putting herself out for the customers… Him keeping her around for that sole reason ... It made sense now, and thinking about it made me sick to my stomach. I guess despite everything I'd thought, I was still stupid and naïve.

And Steve gone, god, that probably just made me more oblivious to everything, but part of me knew I couldn't have done much.

Tim knew something was up, and if he couldn't convince her, there was no way I could've.

xxxx

I hung out with Angela the rest of the afternoon. We went to her apartment and sat in silence for most of it, but after a few hours I felt guilty for not seeing my father yet.

I waited until James got home before I left. Apparently he'd found himself a job at a gas station recently and was contributing more. I hoped he was at least. Despite everything I could say about him being lazy, at least he was nice. I used to worry about him taking advantage of Angela because she was so young, but the longer I'd known them both, the more I trusted him. The only thing he took advantage of was her doing most of the work.

"Hey," he pulled me aside when I got up to leave. "She okay?"

I sighed. I knew I couldn't tell him exactly what happened for fear he might be hurt by it, but I had to say something. "She will be eventually," I said. "It was just a rough day. She quit her job."

He gave me a concerned look, and for a second he stood still. When he thanked finally me and started walking towards her, I felt comfortable enough to leave.

I shut the door to their apartment behind me quietly and took a deep breath, leaning against the shut door, still in shock that any of this had happened.

After I'd composed myself, I made my towards the hospital. It was a long, long walk from where I was. Maybe forty-five minutes to an hour worth of walking, but I was sure that was where Steve was and most likely Evie too. The walk might be good for me anyway, might give me a chance to clear my head.

xxxx

I passed the Shepard house along the way. At first I told myself I would walk around it to avoid seeing Curly, but that seemed stupid, so I walked past it, and lo and behold, Curly was there, messing around with something under the hood of Tim's car. Tim would sure love that later.

I waved at him and kept walking, but I should've known I wouldn't get away with that.

"Hey, wait up!" Curly chased after me.

I stopped and pivoted around to face him. "Sooo," I said. "You got anything to say to me, Curly?"

He scratched his chin, pretending to think about it for a second. "Nope," he said with a smirk. "Not a thing."

"No apology?" I raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, right," he chuckled. "Well, Julia, I'm sorry you were stupid enough to stop runnin'."

I scowled. "That's not the point, you jerk."

"Hey, I said run," he told me. "I didn't say said there like live fishing bait. How was the infamous Mr. Carter anyway?"

I shrugged. "Not as mean and evil as you made him sound."

Right then he started laughing so hard I thought he'd double over. Something told me he enjoyed making that poor man's life hell. "Oh, you would think he's a nice man," he teased. "You don't know the evil side of him like I do."

I rolled my eyes. Of course I didn't. I wasn't a jerk to nice people the same way he was. "Anyway, I gotta get goin'," I said, starting to walk away. "My dad's in the hospital."

"Is he okay?" Curly asked, a genuine hint of concern in his voice.

"Yeah," I told him. "I mean, he will be, but your sister's not." I paused for a second, wondering if I should've said that.

He gave me a funny look, so I kept talking. "Maybe you should go see her. She had a rough day."

"Doesn't she always?" He waved us hand. "What'd she do now?"

"It seemed serious this time, and I honestly don't know." I didn't want to be the one charged with breaking that news to him, but I didn't want Angela moping around her apartment all night either. James could only help so much, and Tim's temper was too short. Curly might actually have a good chance at her opening up about it. At least that was my hope.

If nothing else, he could cheer her up somehow; for all they fought, he was good at that sometimes. "I just know she's upset," I added.

"Yeah, well, I'll see what I can do." He sighed. "Sorry about your dad. Hope he feels better soon."

"Thanks. See ya later, Curly."

I started walking faster than I'd walked before, anxious to get to the hospital.

As I walked I wondered once again if telling Curly something was a good idea. I tried to put myself in her shoes. Though I'd never dream about doing anything like that, I probably wouldn't want Steve to know about it. Still, it seemed like the right thing to do, and at least I hadn't told him exactly what had happened.

I'd leave that up to her.

xxxx

When I finally got to the hospital I was beyond exhausted. I took a seat on the floor in my dad's room since all the available chairs were taken and hoped no nurse would make a fuss about it.

"About time you got here," Steve grumbled from across the room. "Where were you today?"

"Work," I lied. It was half true, and half true was good enough for him.

"Well, tell your boss you got important shit to deal with."

He stared me down, and I glared back, not in the mood to put up with his attitude.

Before I knew it, he shook his head and exited the room in yet another fit of anger. _Thanks a lot, Steve_, I thought. _Ev__ie was supposed to make you tolerable today…_

I sighed loudly, and Evie walked up to me. "If he's too pissy to stick around, you can take his chair," she said, holding her hand out to me.

I let her help me up and did exactly as she said. If he got angry about it, she'd back me up, and as pissy as he got, she knew how to win her arguments. "Just ignore him, Julia." She patted my shoulder when I was seated. "I know this probably isn't the news you want to here, but he fainted this afternoon, and one of the nurses here freaked out 'cause she swore he had a seizure…"

I turned and gave her a puzzled look. Seizure did _not_ sound good. "What?"

"It didn't seem serious. The doctor thought he was alright and they won't keep him overnight," she explained. "But now they want to run some tests on him, and you know him, he's pissed about that."

I rubbed my forehead. Of course my brother would be stubborn enough to be pissed off at someone trying to help him. "That's probably a good thing though…"

"Damn right it is," she agreed. "I told him he didn't have a choice, and guess who he's mad at now?"

"You?" I guessed. I couldn't help but be amused by it.

She was a saint for putting up with him. Normally she didn't put up with this much from him, but I guess she was still relieved he was back and not MIA and thus cut him some slack for that. Besides, we both knew he was upset about Dad, and the only way he knew how to show that was to be as annoying and aggravating as humanly possible.

I turned my attention to our sleeping father and watched his chest move up and down. It was comforting to see he was breathing, but the longer I stared at him the more nervous I got. His eyes were sunken in, and I noticed for the first time just how thin he'd gotten. He looked awful, and I fumed to think someone forgot to pass us on the information that Steve wasn't MIA.

The shock that Steve was back had worn off enough to let me be upset about it. I wasn't sure what happened, but whatever it was was bullshit, because I couldn't help but blame that for why Dad was ill now.

Hell, I even felt guilty about the times I'd pushed him for lazing around the house when he could've been working. Something told me I shouldn't feel bad about that, but what if the reason he was doing that was because he was on the verge of having a heart attack?

Leaning back into the chair in a desperate attempt to relax, I told myself not to think about it. It'd only drive me crazy.

xxxx

I must've drifted off at some point because I woke up to Steve shaking my shoulder. "Julia…" he said, and I straightened myself up.

I pushed the hair that had drooped in front of my face out of my eyes and squinted to see him. Someone had flipped on the lights, and brightness bounced off the stark white walls, practically blinding me.

I glanced to the hospital bed and noticed Dad wasn't there. "Where's Dad?" I asked Steve.

"They've taken him down for surgery."

"What?" I shot up and swayed slightly from my sleepiness. "What happened?"

"I don't know."

Something told me he did but wasn't willing to tell me.

* * *

AN: Sorry for a shorter chapter, but a cliffhanger felt like the natural place to cut it. :P Next is longer though! I promise! I hope you weren't too surprised by Angela... I'd be dropping hints, and now the plot is beginning to come together.

Reviews very much appreciated! I'm worried about the content in this one, so feedback would be amazing. :)


	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns.

* * *

A nurse came and told us it'd be a long surgery, and we could do nothing but wait.

Steve was quiet, and I knew that was bad. Whenever he got beyond the point of irritation and turned silent, I worried. Although Steve would be the first to tell somebody if he thought they were complaining too much, he, himself, _never_ suffered in silence, but he was now. I could see the tension on his face; his jaw was tight, and he stared at something across the waiting room, not bothering to blink.

I leaned against his arm and he let me with no groans or other signs of annoyance, a true testament to how serious the situation was. He even put his arm around me a minute later.

As we waited, I couldn't help but think this was all perfect timing; everything had to happen right when he got back. Angela was pure coincidence, but I didn't think Dad was. I think he tried to hold himself together, perhaps for my sake, and once Steve got back that pressure had built to the point of explosion, and with no need to keep it together anymore, he let it go.

I wasn't sure if that made sense. Maybe I was just looking for reasons, because it helped me to look at things logically. Ever since I was little, I needed reasons why people did things and why things happened, and when I couldn't think of something, I drove myself crazy.

Evie sat on Steve's other side, and by her expression, I couldn't tell if she was bored or apprehensive. Either way, I was glad she was here. Steve was being kind to me now, but that could change, and Lord knows Evie was one of two people I knew who could make him see reason. The other was Sodapop Curtis, but he was out of commission.

"Where were you today?" Steve asked.

I sighed, annoyed he hadn't let that go yet.

He nudged my arm to let me know he wanted an answer, so I gave him the same lie I did before: "Work."

"Bullshit," he accused. "You weren't up in time to make it to your shift."

"And how would you know when my shifts start?"

"I got a good idea what time restaurants usually open," he said. "Not at noon, which is when I left…"

"Well, I was late."

"Alright," he said, but it was clear he didn't believe me.

"Honest, I _was_," I insisted, "and then well… Angela was upset, and it seemed serious, so I followed her out."

"That sounds closer to the truth."

I rolled my eyes. "Why're you so worried about what I do anyway?"

He smirked and shook his head slightly. "Is it that hard to believe I actually give a shit about you?"

"Well, you certainly do a shitty job showing it sometimes…"

"Yeah, well, what do you want me to do? Be a mother hen? Pamper the shit out of you? You'd die of shock."

"Ugh, you always have to make everything so all or nothing." I rubbed my forehead, frustrated he was doing this once again. "No, I meant maybe not tell me to shut up all the time? Maybe listen to me before you start hollering your head off? I could give you lots of suggestions…"

"And I'd rather not hear them," he said definitively.

I grinned. "Because you know I'm right?"

"Shut it," he growled. "I mean, damn it… just trust that I'm not out to get you, okay? And do me a favor and go tell Ponyboy the same while you're at it."

I couldn't help but laugh. "I can't believe you still get this irritated about Soda's little brother after all these years."

"Hey, if you had to spend yesterday afternoon with him—"

"Was he _really_ that bad?" I asked.

"Yes, even you'd have wanted to skin him."

I sighed, feeling the need to defend that poor kid once again from my brother's irrational and stubborn frustration against him. "He's probably just worried about his brother," I said. "And let's just say, you're not exactly the nicest person to be around when you're angry about somethin'."

Before Steve could get a word in, Evie agreed with me. "Yeah, Steven," she teased, jabbing his arm. "Listen to your little sister. She's wiser than Gandhi."

He grumbled at us both and fell silent. Clearly I was the only one who appreciated Evie's sense of humor, but all in all, I took it as a sign he knew I was right. When he changed the subject a couple minutes later, I could say that for sure. "So, what's Angela's deal?"

I pinched the bridge of my nose and tried to stay calm. Of course he'd have to ask about her. He always did, but I wasn't in the mood to deal with being interrogated after what had happened to her. "So it's okay for you to be nosy about my friends, but I can't ask about yours?"

As I expected, he replied, "That's different," but I was too sick of the hypocrisy to let him get away with it this time.

"_How_?" I demanded.

"Well, you knew there was something wrong with Soda and that I'd be pissed about it," he said, like it was basic fact.

I smacked his arm, but he kept on. "I'm just asking about Angela 'cause Lord knows she always walks you right into trouble, and then _I_ have to deal with it, just like I had to pick you up from the drive-in last night…"

My face got red fast. First of all, she had nothing to do with what happened at the drive-in, and second of all, of all the times to argue with me about Angela, he had to pick this one. Sure, he didn't know what happened to her, but I didn't know about what happened to Soda and he slapped me, not once, but twice, so I felt damn justified in my anger.

"You're talkin' out of your ass on this one." I threw his arm off my shoulder and stood up, shaking my finger at him accusingly. "She had plenty of reason to be upset, so you can shut the hell up, Steve. I ain't buyin' that double standard crap."

He moved to get up, and Evie sprung her arm across his knees to stop him. "If she doesn't wanna tell you about her friends, she doesn't have to," she said calmly.

He huffed so loud you'd think steam was shooting out his ears, but he sat back down.

She glared at him. "Look, unless you feel like tellin' her all about Soda, I suggest you shut up and accept the fact she won this argument."

I held my breath for a second, expecting a massive explosion, but the one that came was mild. "Goddamn it." He shoved a hand over his face. "You two make some kind of secret pact to gang up against me?"

Secret pact against him? I liked that thought. I'd have to remember to start one with her later…

I glanced at Evie, and she smirked. "Yeah, if you wanna think about it that way," she told Steve.

He got up and pushed his way towards the door. "I'm gonna go smoke," he said, a cancer stick already dangling between his lips. "You two do your … lady gossip shit without me."

When he was gone, Evie turned to me and gave me a puzzled look. "Didn't he just smoke up half a pack in here an hour ago?"

"Sure did," I said, retaking my seat. "I'm shocked no one complained." With our luck, he'd probably light up next to someone with an oxygen tank and blow up a hospital wing.

But for the time being, I reclined against the wall and relished in the moment. I'd just won two arguments in a row against my brother, the most stubborn man alive; with the help of Evie nonetheless, but I was damn proud anyway.

xxxx

Evie and I talked about various things to liven the mood until Steve returned. She told me stories about her crazy family and her uncle who'd visited every state in the continental U.S. by the time he was twenty to flee the law. Hearing about her family made me feel as though mine was normal; at least in some regards.

When Steve got back, he still seemed tense.

"We talked about you while you were gone," Evie told him. It was a blatant lie, but sometimes I think she enjoyed watching him get riled up.

"Fantastic," was all he said, as he took a seat between us.

He reeked heavily of mentholated cigarettes, so much it bothered even me, a fellow smoker. "Jesus Christ, you tryin' to set a record?" I asked him.

He exhaled a heavy breath in my face to annoy me further, and I crossed my arms, doing my best to ignore him.

A few moments later, I decided to tempt fate by asking him about his fainting problems. I seemed to be on a roll with winning arguments, and it was driving me crazy enough I'd need to know soon. "So…" I started and trailed off, losing my confidence. He was being nice to me; why was I jinxing this?

"So?" he pushed.

"Well, you always force me to be honest with you," I said cautiously. "So I was thinking it's only fair I get to ask you be honest with me."

By the way he tensed up, I could tell he didn't like where I was going, but he nodded and said, "Okay."

"Why were you discharged?" I asked. I'd start small, giving him a chance to tell me himself, but if he stayed stubborn, I might tell him that Evie had already told me.

He planted his face into his hands and groaned loudly. "Do we really have to talk about this now?" He looked up slowly and glared at me.

I nodded. "Please, Steve."

He shook his head firmly. "Not now," he said. "Later, I promise."

"Steve, we have nothin' to do but kill time 'til Dad's out of surgery," I argued. "And I don't wanna keep worrying about you too…"

"Don't worry about me," he snapped. "Just … mind your own damn business for a second."

"I can't," I said quietly. "Evie already told me, and I'm damn worried." I felt a few tears creep up on me but pushed them back down. "What's going on with your fainting thing?"

Steve's head immediately jerked to Evie. "Why would you tell her that?"

"She's your sister, she deserves to know," Evie promptly defended herself. "I honest to God thought you wouldn't be stupid enough to try and keep it from her."

"You think I want her worryin' about me?" he demanded.

"I'd worry anyway," I told him. "I worried about you every damn day you were gone."

"Yeah, well right back at you kid," he snapped. "You think it was easy to leave you here in the hands of Charlie? He ain't evil, but we both know he's a shitty father."

I didn't say anything. I just looked to my feet.

"You think it was easy trying to do the shit they made me when I had that to wonder about?" he asked.

His sincere tone told me he wasn't lying, and that had to be the gushiest thing he'd said to me since he got back, but there was no way he worried more than me. "We thought you were dead. At least you didn't think I was dead."

I expected him to have a comeback or an explosion of sorts, but none came. "Yeah," he sighed, the anger in his voice leaving. "Alright, alright, you got me there."

For a moment, I was so stunned, I didn't know what to say. I'd pushed, and instead of exploding, he went back to being kind to me. "Who are you?" I finally managed. "The Steve I know would've called bullshit on that…"

"Hey, I admit when you're right," he said. "Just doesn't happen often."

Before I could get a rebuttal in, the nurse walked back in and approached Steve.

"We repaired the hole in his stomach," she said. "But the surgeon wants to remove your father's gallbladder and appendix while he's under, so the surgery will be longer."

Steve raised an eyebrow. "What the hell does all that have to do with his heart?"

"Sir, it's a precautionary measure in case they become diseased later. From what he told me, his gallbladder was already diseased."

"Yeah, but apparently he had a heart attack," Steve kept on. "And you're treating him for all this other shit?"

"Steve," Evie warned, but he ignored her.

"What fucking sense does that make?" he demanded.

The nurse cringed at all my brother's cussing, and I couldn't help but feel bad for her. After all, she was probably just the messenger.

"Sir, the doctors no longer think he had a heart attack," she explained as calmly as she could. "In fact, if he did at all, it was a very mild one. We do know he had a seizure."

"Then what the hell _is_ wrong with him?"

"Steve, please," I begged, but he ignored me too and stood up.

"I want some answers, damn it."

"I'm sorry, but that's all I can tell you at this time."

"Can I talk to one of the doctors then?" Steve took a step closer to her and clenched a fist. "You're just a nurse, of course you wouldn't know a goddamned thing."

"Steve!" Evie shot up and shoved herself in front of him. "I am so sorry, Ma'am. He's just upset about his father…" She sighed and shot him the nastiest glares I'd seen out of her all night.

The nurse took a few steps back and nodded uneasily. "Family members do tend to get upset from time to time. It's alright. We're used to it," she told Evie, but she still looked upset. My brother was probably one of the worst she'd ever dealt with.

When she exited the room in a hurry, I got up and smacked Steve's arm. "Was that really necessary?"

"Don't you start, too," he warned me. "They ain't got a fucking clue what they're doing. Why else do you think they can't tell us anything?"

"Because maybe there isn't anything they can do, and they're trying as hard as they possibly can." I started crying, at the realization of what my words meant.

"You just trust everybody, don't you?" Steve asked. "Tell me then, why your opinion on this should matter?"

"I don't trust everybody…"

"Yes, you _do_." He took a step forward and stared me down. "How 'bout Rosie, huh? How'd thinkin' the best of her turn out of you?"

I began to feel light-headed in my upset, certain I'd pass out if he didn't stop. "Please…"

"Steve." Evie walked over to us.

"You stay out of it," he growled at her and turned back to me. "How'd that work out for you?"

I refused to answer that, shocked he had to bring up that situation. It wasn't a fair comparison. I was nine when Dad married her, and it was damn nice to have someone else around, someone who happened to be female, when Steve and Dad could be such jerks. So, yeah, maybe I did fail to see her crazy qualities, but I was just a goddamned kid.

Steve glared at me, and when I didn't answer, he stormed out of the waiting room again. I wondered where he kept going, and why hospital security hadn't flagged him down and kicked him out yet. Part of me wished they would as much as I hated to admit it. He was making everything so much harder than it needed to be.

I took a seat and wiped the falling tears off my cheeks. Evie sat down beside me and rubbed my back to comfort me. When I was calmed down enough, she said, "He means well. Honest, I think he's mostly pissed to think he could care about your father this much."

"How'd the fainting make him get discharged?" I asked her. I knew I was changing the subject, but I couldn't let that go, and no matter how much I hoped, he wouldn't tell me anything. If I tried, he'd lash out at me like he just had.

"Well, they can't have you passing out on the battlefield…"

"Well, I know that," I said, feeling stupid for how I'd worded it. "I mean, how bad is it? Why is it happening?"

"The army doctor thinks he was goin' nuts under all that stress," she said with a sigh. "But then he had a seizure and it got serious enough they let him go, I guess. Shit, I don't know what to think…"

"Me neither." And now I really felt insane feeling bad about this when not even ten minutes ago, he was throwing unfair insults in my face.

"You know, he still won't talk about it the days he was separated from his troop," she added.

"I … I still can't believe they didn't tell us when they found him again." I shoved my hands through my hair and wrapped my fists around balls of hair, yanking on the strands. "I mean, did they forget? How the hell do you _forget _something that important?"

I pulled my hands out of my hair and placed them on my knees, waiting on a reply from her.

"I don't know," she finally said. "I wish I did, but I don't."

Evie squeezed my shoulder, and I scooted closer to her, glad once again she was here. Someone else besides me had to be sane.

xxxx

When Steve came back, he stood at the opposite end of the room for a while, like he knew he'd overdone his last blow up, even for him. At least I hoped he felt bad, because I was still mad as hell. For many years I loved my dad's second wife almost as much as I loved him, and he knew that. He knew it and purposefully threw it in my face anyway.

Evie got up eventually, walked over to him and kissed his cheek. He wrapped his arms around her waist, and I looked away in case they started making out or something, but clearly they didn't because they were back over to where I was a second later.

They sat down on the bench a couple feet away from me. Evie cupped his face in her hands and tilted his head towards her. "When that nurse comes back, you should apologize or say nothing," she said, her tone even and composed. I watched, curious about how she managed to sway him, wondering if I might ever be able to do it.

He ripped her hands off his cheeks, but mumbled an, "Okay."

"Let me do the talking," she added.

"I said okay," he repeated.

He massaged his temples and turned to me. "You okay?"

I didn't answer.

A couple minutes later, he got up and sat next to me, wrapping me into a tight hug without a word. It seemed like the only time he was affectionate towards me was when he didn't feel like talking about something. Sometimes it seemed like he used it against me too. Like he could be a total jerk about something, and then everything was supposed to be fine if he hugged me. I hated that, but mostly because it worked.

I pulled away and wiped a few tears off my cheeks, mad I wasn't as mad.

I leaned forward against my knees, and when Steve put his hand on my shoulder, I lacked the energy to shove him away.

As the tears began to fall again, I wondered how much longer we'd have to wait and how much more of the uncertainty I could take. I sniffled some, trying to compose myself, but the harder I tried, the more I failed. I titled back expecting to hit the wall, but Steve's arm caught me and pulled me close again. Frustrated, I tried to jerk away. He couldn't act like an asshole and suddenly be this nice to me not even a half hour later. He wouldn't get away with that this time, not without a real verbal apology.

"Hey, I know I fucked up, alright?" he said. "Jule, c'mon, don't be a stubborn little shit about it…" His words would've set me off, but he tightened his grip around me as he'd said them.

"You know I love you, so please don't do this…" he added, and that was it for me.

He hadn't said anything like that in a long, long time; in fact I couldn't remember any time. No longer able to stay strong, I broke down completely and gave in to his efforts to comfort me.

I was still crying when the nurse came in and told us the surgery was over and went well. She said he'd be here at least another week to recover and that they wanted to run more testing, but by now, it was two in the morning… Being out of surgery and alive seemed like wonderful news to me.

"We should go home," Steve said to Evie. "He'll be sleeping anyway."

She agreed and he helped me up. I was so tired, everything seemed hazy after that. We drove to their apartment and I settled myself on the couch.

I could've sworn Steve came and sat beside me until I fell asleep, but I was too exhausted to remember right.

xxxx

_Monday, November 10th, 1969_

I woke up groggy, like I was hungover, but there'd been no alcohol involved; just one hell of an emotional night.

For a long time, I lounged around, refusing to be productive today. I know I had school, but after last night, skipping seemed justified. Apparently Steve agreed since he didn't wake me up.

I heard a knock on the door and drug myself up, slightly frightened by it. I peered through the peephole and couldn't have been more shocked to see Angela.

Without hesitating a second longer, I opened the door for her. "Angela? How'd you know I'd be here?"

"You weren't at your house," she said. "Where else _would_ you be?"

I blushed. "You alright?"

She looked pissed. "No. You just had to fucking say something, didn't you?"

I exhaled the breath I was holding and nodded. "Honest, though, I just told him you were upset…"

"Well, that was enough," she said, glaring at me. "He got it out of me. You just knew I wouldn't be able to lie to him, didn't you?"

I gulped and tried to think of anything appropriate to say. "I just know he cares about you, Angel. That's all. I'm sorry."

"Well, you should be," she hissed. "No thanks to you, he got himself arrested."

"What do you mean?" I asked, even though I could easily guess what she meant. Curly and Tim beat a guy until he passed out for cutting off her hair; this would warrant a bigger reaction.

"He got drunk off his ass and beat the living shit out of Roger," she said, just as I'd suspected.

I gave her a sympathetic look, unsure what else to say or do. Roger deserved it, but like her, I didn't like the idea of Curly in jail either. If he hadn't got arrested, she probably wouldn't care. That was what she was most upset about, and I didn't blame her.

"Who knows how long he'll be locked away for." She shoved a hand through her hair, still eying me. "Goddamnit, why'd you have to say somethin'?"

When I said nothing, she grabbed ahold of my arm and shook it slightly. "Why?"

I felt awful. Any answer I could give her would just irritate her more, so I kept quiet, and that's when I noticed the tears rolling down her cheeks. "I'm sorry, Jule," she said finally. "I'm just… I'm just a mess."

I hugged her, and though I didn't know exactly what she was thinking, we were probably both praying it'd be a short sentence.


	14. Chapter 14

Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns.

AN: Thanks all for the support throughout the fic! I was too busy to get replies to the reviewers of the last chapter, but I just want to say once more I appreciate ALL the reviews I've received on this piece so so much. :) You guys are awesome.

* * *

Angela stayed a long time. I knew Steve wouldn't like it when he returned, but she looked so lost and broken down, I couldn't possibly kick her out. Honest, it scared me a little. In all our friendship, I hadn't seen her like this since she was very young; not since the days after her Dad left. Those days were awful. She loved that man a lot and thought he was just the greatest thing ever, but then he decided to put his love life ahead of his kids. I remember he tried to stay in her life, but he kept visiting less and less, and nothing ever took away the sting of him leaving in the first place. They all resented him and started to hate him as the years went on, and I couldn't say I blamed them. That's an awful lousy thing to do to kids, especially when they looked up to you like that.

It was sad. When Curly talks about him now, he'd tell me all sorts of horrible things about him, but I didn't remember him as an evil person. I think Curly painted him that way because he was so 'hurt he left. Their stepdad though, he was a real jerk. He seemed to think he was entitled to lord over the house because he brought all the money in. He did keep a roof over their heads, I guess, but living in that house had to be a nightmare with how erratic he was. Sometimes I got the impression his normal was my dad's worst.

And at least my dad recognized he did terrible things; Earl seemed to think it was completely normal to be a controlling asshole.

I sighed and watched Angela pick at the skin between her fingers. Right now she didn't look like the tough girl I knew her to be. Her eyes looked sad and were swollen from all the crying she'd most likely done over the past few days. It wouldn't surprise me if she hadn't slept any either.

I always thought she was so much stronger than me, because she didn't take crap from people, but maybe deep down she was just as insecure. And given the situation, it was clear she took more crap than she was willing to admit to. It was like she was willing to endure torment to get what she wanted, and that worried me; it was how she got herself in these awful situations. She acted like she didn't care or that it didn't make her uncomfortable, but it did.

Her brothers knew it. I knew it. Even she knew it, and I hoped this incident would be a dire needed wakeup call for her. I watched her downward spiral since we were in junior high. That was when it all started; wearing makeup, chasing boys, always needing to have a boyfriend. She said she didn't give a shit about that and told me she didn't need a boyfriend; according to her, it was just a plus to have one. When I was real young and stupid, I believed whatever she told me because I thought she knew more about people than I did, but I knew better now. We were more similar than I once though. She trusted people because she wanted to be able to trust somebody.

"How bad was the damage?" I swallowed and braced myself for a potential angry reply. That was asking too much probably, but I needed to know how long Curly'd be locked away for. Given he was eighteen now and this was far from the first time he'd been arrested, they probably wouldn't go easy on him.

"He broke his nose," she said, not bothering to look up from her hands. "Tim got the call, and he's gonna try to post bail. I don't know what Tim's gonna do to get the money. He was gone when I left his place, and he probably still thinks I'm there…"

"He's probably pretty worried about you…"

"Worried?" She looked up and snorted. "God, you should've seen him. He was just as livid as Curly only he knew he'd land his ass in the cooler again if he did anything stupid… He's learned his lessons. He'd have made someone else do the dirty work for him, and he knows some guys who could've, but damn Curly…"

I wanted to tell her there was nothing she could've done. We both knew Curly was impulsive, but I held my tongue, knowing the words would be anything but comforting.

"Curly just lost it," Angela continued. "He told me he didn't give a shit about jail so long as Roger ate pavement, and those were the last damn words he said to me." She sighed and turned to face me. "You know, I should be used to this by now… Them getting arrested and all."

"Don't tell yourself that," I said. "I'd be upset if it were my brother…" Steve had gotten hauled in a handful of times, but he'd only really been arrested once. To me it didn't count unless they detained you. People in our neighborhood where always running into legal trouble.

"I just really hate them sometimes," she grumbled. "They're so pigheaded. You know Tim wouldn't even let me go home? After this, he's paranoid about James again and pretty much anybody with junk between their legs will be under radar indefinitely. Said he should lock me in a bell tower..."

I got a strong mental image of what Tim must've sounded like from her words, and it confirmed why he scared me. Steve could be scary, but Tim seemed like a whole new level of scary to me. He was surprisingly patient with Angela a good half of the time, but she pushed his buttons a lot. "I hate it to say it, but I don't blame him…" I told her finally, knowing she wouldn't like it. "Well, not on the bell tower part, but being suspicious…" I definitely felt more comfortable that her brother knew about it, that was for sure.

"Yeah, yeah." She ran her hands through her hair. "I get it. I fucked up, okay? I always do. I'm kind of good at it."

I almost smacked her for saying that. It was true in some regards, but she didn't have to get so down on herself. This wasn't her fault, not entirely. The only thing I'd fault her for was not listening to Tim, but I got that. Her brother was even more of hardheaded than mine, so I can't imagine I'd like listening to him either… "Angel, please, don't talk like that," I pleaded with her. "I'm not blaming you. I just don't want anything bad to happen again… and Tim doesn't—"

The door rattled open before I could finish my thought, and Steve walked in. He glanced at me and then Angela, and I braced myself for a classic Steve outburst. Angela was here uninvited, and Lord knows how he felt about her…

He stared at her for a long time, and she shot him a nasty look back.

"She okay?" he asked me, and I about died of shock. I guess even he was troubled by her current state, and damn it if that didn't say something… Steve hated her. He always had.

"I'm right here," she growled before I could say anything. "You can ask me directly, you ass, but that would probably be too hard for you."

I rubbed my forehead. Christ, of course she'd have to bicker with him, and now the explosion was bound to happen. She lost her chance at him being civil in one comment.

I waited for him to flip shit on her, but when I looked up, he was only glaring.

"I should head back to Tim's," she said to me, ignoring Steve. "Like you said, he's probably worried." She got up and pushed her way past Steve, letting her purse smack him.

He glanced at her and back to me, giving me a puzzled look.

I shrugged, and by then she was gone. No goodbye or anything.

At first I wanted to yell at Steve for driving her away, but he hadn't been as rash as she could have. For how much he disliked her, he was maybe even being nice.

"Yeah, I guess you're right." Steve scratched his head and sighed. "If she's willingly going to Tim, she's got to be in one hell of a mess."

"You don't even know the half of it," I told him, but I was relieved she was headed to Tim's. It was best he be in on whatever plans she needed to take next.

"Yeah, and I don't wanna know," Steve said.

I smirked, wondering if the reason he didn't want to was that he might feel bad for her. He was probably disgusted with himself for not screaming at her as messed up as that sounded.

"C'mon, we should probably go see the old man." He jingled his keys and motioned for me to pull myself off the couch, clearly impatient for me to get going, and although I did want to see my father, it was tempting to stay lazy.

"I haven't even had a chance to shower." I pouted just to annoy him, but a shower would be nice. It'd been at least day or two since I'd had one, and that was gross to think about.

He shook his head, like he couldn't believe I was actually whining about a shower and motioned for me to get up again. "No one'll give a shit what you smell like. C'mon."

"Please, Steve? It'll only take me ten minutes…"

"Hell no," he said. "Think I got to shower much in Nam? Quit you're bitchin'. You hair ain't even greasy yet…"

This was coming from someone who purposefully put grease in his hair, but the bit about Vietnam shut me up quick. Not matter how much I disagreed about showering, I wouldn't argue on principle, so the next time he tried to hurry me along, I got up and followed him out the door.

xxxx

Dad was awake when we got there, and I was surprised at how overcome with emotion I was to see him. Almost immediately I ran up to him and hugged him, careful not to bump or squeeze anything that might hurt. "You okay?" I asked and pulled away.

He grimaced a bit. "Yeah, I'm fine. They got me pretty drugged up." That sounded like a lie. For how long he was in surgery, he had to be in some pain, but he was talking, so I wouldn't hassle him.

"They tell you what's wrong with you?" Steve asked. Arms crossed, he was still lingering towards the wall on the opposite end of the room.

I glared at him and nearly said, "What a nice greeting, Steve…"

"They don't tell me shit," Dad grumbled. "And even if they did, I wouldn't understand them, so quit askin' me shit. I can barely see straight."

Steve looked like he wanted to keep arguing with Dad about this. I shot him a look as if to say, "Don't you even dare" and much to my surprise, he left the room.

I followed him out and stood back a few feet as he flagged down one of Dad's nurses. "Hey!" He didn't even bother greeting her formally, which made me frown. This couldn't go well. "Does Doctor Kent know anything more about him, hmm?" he asked. "They tell you anything?"

His sounded vindictive, and I cringed at his lack of social skills. It was too damn bad Evie had to work today. We needed her here, because I doubted he'd listen to me.

Thankfully the nurse was kind and smiled. "I'll see if he can stop by to talk to you, okay?"

"Yeah, okay," Steve said and started walking back towards me. I shot him a glare. Thank her, damn it, thank her.

He must've caught my drift for he flipped around and pinched the bridge of his nose for a second. Was thanking somebody really that painful? "Thanks by the way," he called back to her.

She muttered an "mhmm" and went back to reading a chart.

When Steve caught up to me, I shook my head at him. "Glory, Steve, mind your manners why don't ya…"

"Shut up," he grumbled, but he seemed less annoyed than he was letting on.

I followed him back into Dad's room and took a seat near the window.

The doctor came back about a half hour later and explained to Steve that Dad seemed to be improving. Steve looked like he wanted to call bullshit on that, but he nodded and heard the doctor out as best he could. For Steve, that was pretty damn impressive.

Doctor Kent recommended Dad stop drinking immediately because his liver didn't look so hot. He also said to cut back on smoking, but as he explained over and over again, he felt most of Dad's health problems were at the hands of heavy drinking. He said he was surprised to see it in a man this young, but it didn't surprise me. Dad had been drinking and smoking since he was younger than me, but I couldn't help but feel it was an anticlimactic conclusion to all the worry we'd been through.

Still, everyone in the room got tense. At least Dad seemed dead to the world or there might've been some outrage on his part. Steve and I exchanged telling glances, as if to say we both knew our dad would do neither, no matter how much his life depending on it. In a lot of ways, it actually seemed worse than him having a heart attack.

"Yeah," Steve spoke finally. "You might wanna have a few of your people talk to him about that…"

"I'll see what help we can offer you," the doctor said and promptly exited the room.

Steve walked up to me and patted my back. "Well, you got any bright ideas on how to tell him that?"

"Nope," I said.

He scratched his head and sighed. "Me neither. I'd feel like a damn hypocrite, so maybe you should be the one to say something…"

"Hell no." I shook my head firmly. "You're not gettin' out of it."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," he said. "At least he's not dead, I guess…"

I smirked and nodded. Yeah, that was true. I guess I could say that to a lot of things... At least Angela wasn't dead, at least Curly wasn't dead, at least Steve wasn't dead.

_Thank God_ Steve wasn't dead.

I turned and hugged him. It wasn't lost on me how close we could've come to losing him. In a messed up sort of way, amidst all the bad, I felt lucky, and maybe it wasn't that messed up. We were standing. He might faint in a minute or maybe in three days for all we knew, but right now, everything was okay.

I think we both knew we couldn't take breathing for granted anymore. Him even more than me.

* * *

For a sequel, I'm thinking I'll start posting the story that occurs right after Landslide. That is, if everyone's okay with it. Another option is the future story after this. Voice your thoughts!

One final comment for the story too? I know you're all busy, so let me just say I don't expect anything long or fancy. Just a simple "Yes, I want that sequel!" or "I enjoyed the story" are more than enough to assure me you're game for more of this series. It only takes a few seconds, but spares me so much anxiety wondering if the chapter sucked and so on. :D

Your guys' support keeps me posting. I can't thank you enough!


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